


The Return of King Richard Trilogy: The Moment of Truth

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: BBC Robin Hood Alternate Season 2 [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apple of Eden, BAMF Robin Hood, BAMF Robin Hood's Gang, Characters will die, Dark fic, F/M, Finale of Alt. Season 2, Gen, Long!fic is very long, Pieces of Eden, Pieces of Eden shenanigans, The Crusades come to Sherwood Forest and Nottingham, War is hell, alternate season 2, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-12
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 125,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Solace of Silence" - For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life. -Post Sea. 1, Alt. Universe-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return to the Beginning - Part 1: Stratgem

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Beginning

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in early November.  **It is recommended that you read all of the previous stories I have written for _Robin Hood_ (including the crossovers), but _not_ required to enjoy this fanfic.**

 

**Summary:**

            Since his return from the Holy Lands, Robin of Locksley fought for the King and for country.  Becoming an outlaw, he has become a fighter for truth and for justice.  But now, it comes down to this, the momentous showdown between the Sheriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood.  For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life.

 

**Historical Note:**

            King Richard signed a treaty with Salah al-Din around late August of 1192 before finally leaving the Holy Lands in September of 1192.  However, he was captured by Leopold V, Duke of Austria before turned over to Emperor Henry VI of Germany and the Holy Roman Empire who held him ransom for a rather large sum of money.  That debt was paid off mostly by his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard finally returned home (home being northern France) in 1194.  Due to continuity errors and for the sake of this story, I am ignoring the 1194 date and setting this story in late 1192.  There will be an additional historical note at the end of this trilogy.

 

**Story:**

 

_Part 1 – Stratagem_

 

**Mid-September, 1192**

**THE** **REPUBLIC** **OF** **VENICE**

 

The cacophony of noise that was prevalent in a bustling city was heard by familiar ears as he stood upon the roof of a non-descript building, staring out at the many islands that made of the magnificent city-state of Venice.  A major port of call for many of those looking to cross into the Holy Lands and from there to the Orient, it was also a gateway city back to the great empires of the Euro-Kings and Queens.

This was also why it made for one of the best places for the Hashashin to have a bureau.  Granted it was a fledging one, having been commissioned by him earlier in the year, but his men had already made numerous progresses in establishing themselves in all walks of the Venetian society.  So he stood upon the roof of the building, surveying the flatlands and marshlands that the city stood upon.

But he was not expected to stay long, having used the bureau located here as a stop point in his journey back to Masyaf, to make his report on the events that had happened just a little over a month and half ago.  For Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad, the mission was complete, Hadiya killed, and the Piece of Eden still safe.  The more pressing concern was now to warn his fellow Brothers and Sisters of the Hashashin of the growing influence the Knights Templar had over some of the Euro-Kings, especially from what he had overheard by the Sheriff of Nottingham and the French noble, Le Celle.

The fastest ship was already secured to sail him to Acre to leave port later in the day.  He would have been down by the docks had it not been for the rumor he had heard yesterday from the Rafiq of the bureau.  He had immediately seen to it that messengers were sent out to affirm the situation and they had yet to report back.

Suddenly the patter of feet upon clay rooftops made him turn slightly to his left, his ever present white assassin’s outfit and hood up, making him look like an ordinary scholar.  The informant, dressed in seaman’s clothes, but bore the mark of the assassins, his left ring finger cut, approached him, face pinched and pensive.

Altaїr did not like the expression.  “What news?” he asked quietly in English, his Arabic accent soft.

“The rumors are true Master Altaїr,” the informant replied, “the others have stayed to watch their marks and bid me to return, but it is true.  Leopold V, Duke of Austria has been confirmed as the new leader of the Templars.”

Altaїr swore silently, gritting his teeth.  It was only a year ago that he had killed the Knights Templar leader Armand Bouchart and had decimated their ranks in Cyprus, driving them out, yet they had already chosen a new leader.

“And he is headed towards France?”

“No Master,” the young man shook his head, “to England.”

This time Altaїr narrowed his eyes as he stared towards the western inland areas of the city-state.  To England meant the Templars were serious enough to recruit Prince John, the regent, holding the lands for his brother King Richard.  The last he had heard of Richard the Lionhearted before he had left for his mission to stop Hadiya was that the King was close to negotiating a truce with Salah al-Din and ending the Crusade.

If Leopold was headed to England, it meant that the King had failed in his truce and the Duke of Austria was taking advantage of that to bring his younger brother into the fold of the Templars.  By extension it meant that if the Sheriff of Nottingham was in high favor with the Prince as he had heard rumors about, then Nottinghamshire would be controlled by Templars, endangering Robin of Locksley’s efforts to depose the corrupt ruler.

Altaїr bit his lip, shaking his head slightly as he thought.  He had no further obligation to his friend and the consequences were grave at the moment.  The only thing he could do at the moment was to stop Leopold from ever setting foot in England or even meeting Prince John, thereby preventing the chain of events he had thought would happen.  It would be helping Robin out in a distance, but he knew that his main goal was to kill the newest leader of the Knights Templar.

He clapped the seaman on the shoulder, “Thank you for your information.  Tell the Rafiq that I will be returning back to England to assassinate Leopold V, Duke of Austria.  Send word to Malik and the others of events happening here.”

“But you will need men to help you get past his guards-“

“I leave for England now,” Altaїr shook his head, “if the men are found, then send them after me.”

“As you wish Master,” the informant bowed his head slightly to him before scrambling down the side of the building and headed in.  Altaїr watched him enter before turning and dashing across the rooftops, headed towards the inland coast to find a horse that would speed him back to the destination he had left just a month and half ago.

Time was of the essence.

                                    *                      *                      *

**November, 1192**

**THE** **NORTH ROAD**

 

He stood there, a lone figure amongst the colorful red, yellow, orange, brown leaves of the fall season covering the dirt path before him.  The familiar green cowl over his head he watched as the approaching carriage of the latest in tax revenue for the Prince slowly halted before him.  The guards walking by the carriage tensed, their weapons drawn, but he was not concerned.  His right fingers brushed gently on the feathers of his arrow notched into his bow, but it was not drawn, resting lightly in front of him.

The familiar curved Saracen blade hung by his side and his pack of arrows was slung behind him, a comforting weight.  Behind his archer’s hood, his green eyes sparkled in mirth and a roguish smile lit up his face as he stared at the wagon and guards.

“Gentlemen,” Robin of Locksley, former Lord of Locksley, now outlaw, greeted pleasantly, “I am Robin Hood-“

The guards visibly started and the smile grew an inch wider.

“-and I am here to relieve you of your gold.”

“He’s only one man!” the fat, portly man next to the driver spluttered.  Robin’s eyes lit up with amusement as he saw that indeed this man would be loaded with gold, especially on his persons.  One did not get that fat except from unhealthy eating in this day and age, which meant, he had a lot of gold to spare to buy rich foods.

“You must be the King’s new tax collector, I presume?” Robin inclined his head towards the portly man, “pleased to meet you, I’m Robin Hood.”

“Get him!” the man’s face was turning a nice ugly shade of red and Robin lifted his bow slightly in a warning gesture as the guards surrounding the carriage as they tentatively approached him.

“I wouldn’t,” he grinned just as the rustle of more leaves being trampled along with bushes crushed emerged from all sides and looked around to see three more of his gang surrounding the carriage.

“There are only four of them!” the portly man’s face was now turning from red to purple in outrage.

“Uh, guess again,” Robin gestured with the tip of his bow and arrow to the surrounding trees as they rustled around them.  Immediately the guards, driver, and portly man’s gaze shot to the surrounding trees before the soldiers crowded around the carriage, murmuring prayers.  Some even drew the sign of the cross across their chests.  He heaved a loud sigh, bringing the portly man’s gaze upon him and noticed to his amusement that the purple coloring was gone and in place, the man looked like a white sheet.  “Now then, shall I be relieving you of your gold or will you continue to put up a fuss?”

The man gave an audible gulp before raising his hands in a gesture of surrender as did the others and Robin nodded once.

“Good,” was all he said smile wide on his face.

                                    *                      *                      *

The smile was soon wiped off in less than an hour.

“Run!” Robin shouted as he and the rest of the gang of outlaws fled through the forests of Sherwood.  The thundering hoof beats of horses echoed loudly behind them, pursuit not even letting up.  He had already dropped at least one bag of gold from the two he was carrying in an effort to stall the soldiers chasing after them and was only clutching one, slung over his shoulder as he and Much ran as a pair through the multi-colored forest.

He had known something was to go wrong ever since the guards had surrendered so easily.  He knew that his reputation preceded him and that made guards and caravans even more nervous, but somehow, something just seemed too easy, especially with that many guards surrounding the tax collector’s wagon.  And his unease was proven true when a small guard of soldiers had ridden into view on the North Road, bearing the colors of the Sheriff and Prince John, determined to capture them.

His gang had immediately scattered into pairs, knowing what to do at the first sign of trouble and he hoped as he had gone in his own direction with Much that none of them would get caught.  They all knew to meet up after the sun had set for the day at one of their secret locations, but until then, they were to hide.

In recent months, there had been an increase in guard patrols and ambushes along the roads that the outlaws had used to stake out their ambushes.  It made for some tricky planning and secondary planning to steal the gold from under the Sheriff’s nose, but instead of despairing, Robin took it as a good sign.  A sign that his actions were infuriating not only the Sheriff, Gisborne, and all of the crooked nobles in Nottinghamshire, but had also reached the ears of Prince John and most certainly his court of nobles.

It meant that his actions had an impact, and he hoped galvanized many of the nobles who were on the fence about his actions.In the months past, the legend and stories of Robin Hood and his gang had grown into a potent reputation amongst Nottinghamshire and if Robin’s ears were correct, stories of their exploits were also gaining traction amongst the nobility throughout England.

Rumors spoke that some of the nobles who opposed Prince John’s regency and heavy taxation of the lands were galvanized by his efforts, seeing it as a way for them to freely oppose the tyrannical Prince in any way.  Though he did not mind being used as the scapegoat in this respect, it still heartened him that at least now the nobles were doing something instead of cowering to Prince John’s every whim.

The only problem was still in Nottinghamshire.  Sheriff Vaysey had grown increasingly agitated and became tighter fisted with the money collected.  The nobles of the province still cowered at his rule and Robin knew that an inevitable confrontation between the two of them was fast at hand.  However, if he could provide some relief to the populace in any way shape or form, he would do so.  But with the increase in guards, it was getting trickier to find ways to help the populace.

The Sheriff had started to resort to severe retaliation against those who suddenly had an influx of money, so Robin had to think of new and clever ways to disguise the influx of money that appeared in the villages at times.

“Robin, they’re still following!” Much’s voice jumped slightly as the two of them slid down a hill, leaping across a couple of fallen branches before Robin took a sharp right and ran towards a series of bramble and bushes.  Branches whipped across his facing, stinging him with their quick swipes and he could feel one cut into his cheek, but ignored it as he heard the thunderous hoof beats behind him, catching up to them.

He considered dropping the gold he had on his back, but quickly decided against it with a look at his former manservant.  Much only had one bag too, but at least half of it was ripped open, leaking gold pieces everywhere.  If the others had lost the gold they had collected then it would all be for naught.  Will needed the gold to trade for lumber and supplies to build their winter quarters.  The young carpenter had not told anyone where he was building the winter quarters save for Little John who always helped me carry the wood needed, but he said that he only needed at least a bag worth of gold to finish the job before snow started to fall.

This was their last chance; Little John had said that he could smell the snow coming within a couple of weeks.  Holing up with villagers in other towns would put them too at risk for the Sheriff to discover where they were.  Their best bet was to stay in the woods until the Sheriff was deposed or when the King returned from the Holy Land.  He risked a quick glance back and narrowed his eyes.  At this rate, they would lose both bags of gold…

“Much!” Robin made a quick decision and threw his bag of gold towards his friend, “catch!”

 He saw him fumble for a second, nearly dropping the bag onto the mossy ground before Robin skidded to a stop and drew his bow, notching an arrow.  “Keep running!  I’ll be behind you!” he shouted before firing his first arrow, hitting a soldier in the leg.  The soldier fell off of his mount, screaming in pain before Robin notched another arrow and let it fly, deliberately missing the ear of another so much that he abruptly pulled on his horse’s reigns and the horse immediately bucked him off.

Ducking as two arrows flew by his head, he let another one loose, scratching the flank of another horse, making it rear, throwing its rider off before it galloped away.  Firing several more arrows, scattering the soldiers that had been sent after him and Much, he smiled grimly as the soldiers all either had fallen to the ground or were trying to keep themselves up on their mounts.

Seeing that pursuit was all but halted, he turned and dashed off, catching the tail end of Much’s multicolored poncho before he disappeared over a ridge.  Robin slung his bow across his shoulder and ran, leaping through bramble, his breath coming out in short quick misty gasps as the cold air was sucked into his lungs and pushed back out.

The late fall and prick of cold winter invigorated him as he slowly caught up to Much before the two of them ran up another hill and towards a small series of trees that served as one of their lookout points.  “Much!” he called out, making his manservant turn back around, a relieved smile on his face.

“Are they-“

“Up the tree, come on!” Robin urged him to start climbing the trees and he did so as well.  A few minutes later they sat comfortably high on the branches surrounded by the red-gold foliage of the tree.  He knew that soon they would not be able to use this place as a hiding spot anymore, due to the lack of foliage covering them, but for now, it still served its purpose.

“Master, are they…all gone?” Much huffed, out of breath.  Robin patted him gently on the back before nodding.

“I think so,” he glanced down and through the branches for any sign of pursuit.  It would take some time for the soldiers to get their mounts to obey them, after the flurry of arrows he had shot at them, but he couldn’t discount the fact that these were soldiers bearing the colors of the Sheriff and Prince John.

The Sheriff’s men he knew would be terrified of him, but Prince John’s men, they were as good as the King’s own Private Guard and just as loyal to their Prince.  Why the Prince’s men were doing here was puzzling to Robin and made him worried, but he knew he should have expected it as much.  It meant his fame and status was growing to the point where the Prince had to send his own soldiers to Nottingham to at least take some semblance of control over the situation here.

“What do we do with the money?” Much asked as the two of them kept a wary eye out for any of the pursuing soldiers.

“Most of it will have to go to Will, if this is all that’s left.  Then part of it will be for Marian’s father-“

“The medicine, right,” Much nodded in understanding.

Robin smiled slightly and also nodded absently.  Sir Edward had fallen ill just a few of weeks ago with the winter cold, but unlike most others who had gotten well after a week, the cold seemed to cling onto him and he needed the local herbs the apothecary was will to sell, but at a very high cost.  He knew that Marian could have gotten the medicine, but she had been too worried about leaving her father alone to make the necessary journey to Nottinghamshire every other day.

So Robin and his men had volunteered to get the medicine for Marian and deliver it to Knighton Hall.  If anyone had wondered how she had gotten the medicine, they had Rowan to step in for her.  Ever since the summer solstice tournament, the young man from Treeton had asked permission to become a squire under Edward’s household and both Marian and Edward had agreed.

In a twisted way, though he would never admit it to anyone, even Much, he was glad that Marian’s father had fallen ill.  It meant that Marian didn’t spend so much time in NottinghamCastle where the risk of her being caught as an outlaw sympathizer was great.  It also meant that she didn’t spend so much time with Guy of Gisborne to whom Robin had witnessed more than once try to sway Marian to his side.  He would not deny the jealousy within him, but he would never trust the man who had almost assassinated his King.

The neigh of a horse coming down a path jolted Robin out of his thoughts as he tensed, quietly unshouldering his bow and drawing an arrow taunt.  He knew he had a limited supply left, so each shot had to count.  Beside him Much drew in a sharp breath as the two of them watched three soldiers, dressed in the colors of Prince John trot near and around the trees they were hiding in.

Robin picked out the nearest target to him and steadied his hand as he watched them wheel around several times.  He could feel a bead of cold sweat rolling down his face, chilled by the late fall air.  However, his breath came in steady beats, his eyes narrowing to his target.  Just as suddenly he relaxed, letting the arrow sit on his bow as the soldiers wheeled about and rode away, headed towards a different direction.

Much let out a loud sigh of relief and sat back against the branch he was sitting on.  “At least that’s over…”

“Not until the last man,” Robin grinned, reminding him of the first thing they did when they had arrived at the borders of Nottinghamshire.  “We’ll wait here for a while just in case then you go back to the hideout and I’ll head to Nottingham.”

“Just yourself?  But Robin-“

“Don’t worry, I am not going to let myself get caught, this time,” he clapped his friend on the shoulder and shook it reassuringly.

“You’d better not,” his former manservant grumbled mostly to himself before rubbing his hands together for some warmth.  “I can’t wait to get back…hot fire, food…”

Robin had to laugh at the simplicity of Much’s words.  Ever since his return, he had found that there were more simple things to laugh than ever before.  His only wish right now was for the King to return, then everything he held dear to him would be able to be celebrated in the open and the laughter would be really just that, a simple unaltered laugh.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Sheriff Vaysey did not have the luxury of laughing as he looked up at his _leftenant_.  “Tell me Gisborne,” he watched as he leaned against one side of the wall of the great hall where a meeting of the nobles had concluded about an hour ago, “Why is it that you haven't caught Robin Hood yet?”

He was pleased to see Gisborne's jaw tighten as he reminded him yet again of his failure to capture the slippery outlaw.  That had been one of the bigger topics in today's meeting and one that the Sheriff made his displeasure felt by the other nobles.  They were in charge of their villages and whatnot, not Robin Hood, and they were the ones who needed to enforce the law.  He suspected some of them were already in league with the damned bastard, but he needed more proof.

“Eight months since he's returned to England, and in eight months, you have not been able to capture or even execute him!” he said, inwardly surprised at how calm his voice sounded.  However, he caught Gisborne flinching under his words.  Good, let the man squirm.  He was becoming more and more incompetent for not even being able to capture one single outlaw.

He picked up the parchment he had been given this morning, hence the emergency meeting with the nobles just over an hour ago.  He had not allowed Gisborne to attend, hoping to make him squirm a little more, and it did make the man squirm.  He was sick and tired of the man's incompetence and the letter he had received this morning did nothing to assuage his feelings.  It was high time that Gisborne grew some backbone; otherwise he would find himself a new _leftenant_.

“Do you know what this is?” he lifted the letter a bit and saw him approach, shaking his head.  “It's a letter from Prince John.”

He saw Gisborne's eyes widen slightly.

“Yes, that Prince John.  The same Prince John that had apparently ordered you to try to kill me for being unable to capture Robin Hood five months ago,” from this letter, Vaysey had learned of the supposed secret orders that the Prince had given to Gisborne should he fail in making sure James of Atherstone killed Hood.  However, he figured he should at least be somewhat grateful that Gisborne's loyalties were stronger than he had imagined.

However, after so many months of failures, he wondered if Gisborne's loyalties were waning or was he beginning to get too soft.  Maybe he was even beginning to listen to Hood's prattling, though he suspected it was probably because of that she-bitch Marian that held sway over his heart.  When would Gisborne get it through his thick skull that he could just take the girl by force if he wanted to?  None of the stupid chivalry and two-timing stuff that made men so weak-hearted.

He continued to stare at Gisborne, making him squirm under his gaze before tossing him the letter.  “He's arriving,” he saw the shock flit across his second-in-command's face, “today.”

“T-Today, sire?” Gisborne asked, picking up the letter and hastily scanning it.

“Yes,” Vaysey snapped, “apparently your efforts in capturing Hood has proved fruitless so he feels he can come in, and make sure the job is done right.”  He made sure the hint of warning was in his tone and that his second-in-command was fully aware of the implicated consequences.  The Prince and regent of the realm did not enter another Lord or Sheriff's territory without some consequence for said Lord of the realm.  He knew full well that someone was going to pay for the incompetence in Nottinghamshire, and he fully expected to place the blame on Gisborne.

And looking at his _leftenant_ , he saw that Gisborne understood the consequences too, a twitch of fear running through his body as he placed the letter back down on the table.  Now who would Gisborne blame was most curious indeed.  Or at least Vaysey hoped it would help, it would spur him to double his efforts at capturing Hood.

“Well?” he asked, expectantly.

“I must take my leave,” Gisborne quickly bowed and headed up the stairs and away from the great hall, leaving Vaysey alone in the great hall once more.  At least  his second-in-command was now properly motivated, he thought as servants came in with piping hot food for his late lunch meal.

The only thing that he could count on was the fact that the other plan that the Prince had specifically ordered him to do a week ago, was about to take effect.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **TOWN**

 

Robin hid under the guise of being a peasant looking for wares as he threaded their way through the market stalls and shoppers that peddled their products.  Though taxes were at an all time high, at least some semblance of market day had returned.  The Sheriff may be a pain in his backside, but even he knew that people needed food and commerce was good for a region.  But in his opinion, there were still far too little people on the streets for even the semblance of a bountiful market day.  Only the rich, nobles and simpering peasants who pandered to the Sheriff’s every whim were on the streets, looking at the meager wares the stores put out for them.

He watched a few peasants turn their noses up at some of the food on display.  He should have expected that human nature made even these peasants the way they were.  They had turned in their neighbors, those that could not pay the latest taxes to the Sheriff in exchange for amounts of gold.  And even when their neighbors returned after their time in jail, they still had turned them in yet again for not being able to pay again.

It was people like these that disgusted him at times now.  No more than the nobles who ran after Vaysey’s coattails, but he had remembered a few of them looking at him as the hero, the savior.  He remembered giving a few of them gold back when he had become an outlaw, seeing that everyone in Nottinghamshire needed his help.  Now bolstered with the gold they horded, they had tried to curry favor with the Sheriff and he had given it to them.

He glanced to his left at the physician’s storefront that was a few stalls over, by the corner of Pine Street.  A patrol of guards was wandering by, too close for Robin to be able to sneak in and make the medicinal purchase that he needed to for Marian’s father.  Narrowing his eyes slightly, he wondered if there was a way to distract the guards-

“Please, sir, spare a few?” a beggar spoke up near the stall he had paused at, and he glanced down, recognizing the voice.

A slight smile appeared on his face as he saw that it was Rowan in disguise and saw the smile reciprocated on the young man’s face.  Robin leaned over the stall he was looking at and spilled a few small pieces of fruit onto the ground.

“Hey!” the stall keeper glared at him and he bowed his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized before kneeling on the ground and made a show of collecting the spilled produce he had knocked over.  The billowing flare of his cloak covered the deft fingers he used to drop the bag of money Rowan needed to buy the medicine.  The guards knew Rowan as both the winner of the silver arrow contest and as the competing knight of Lady Marian so they would not give him trouble nor would the physician himself.  Robin knew that the physician had sworn to take no sides in the apparently subtle battle between Robin and the Sheriff, upholding his oath, but he was a skittish man, prone to babble and stutter whenever Robin was around.

But he treated all of those who sought his aid with a fair attitude.  Rowan would be the safer alternative to get the medicine Marian’s father needed.

“Thank you good sir,” Rowan winked at him and he finished picking up all of the dropped fruit before getting up and placing them back on the stall.  Taking some of the coin that he always kept upon himself, he pressed a couple of coins into the seller’s hand paying for the fruit he had dropped.  No sense wasting perfectly good food even though it was slightly bruised and a bit dusty.

“Yeah, you be paying for what you dropped you lout,” the stall keeper growled out before he turned away and headed towards the northern gates of the city, assured that everything was in good hands.

A quick glance back made him see the flash of Rowan’s brown cloak as he disappeared around the corner towards the physician’s storefront.  Turning back around, he made to turn down another street when the thundering of hooves and the shouts of surprise followed by scattered people across the main thoroughfare, made him pause.  He was swept along with the crowd as they pushed back against walls and stalls, watching the horses gallop by.

Robin narrowed his eyes as he recognized the red-black banner that was Prince John’s.  The same banner he and his gang had encountered this morning in their ill-fated attempt to rob the latest tax collector’s wealth.  Had the guards traced him here?  But that was impossible…  He and Much had parted ways after they were sure that the guards had gone off searching for them in a different part of the woods.

He tilted his head slightly, pulling his cloak closer to him as he realized that this set of guards, four of them, were surrounding somebody, protecting him.  As the small entourage passed by, Robin’s eyes widened in shock.  He knew the man in the center of the protective detail…

He had been considerably shorter than his brother, but nonetheless also held the same regal bearing.  However, that had been spoiled by the gleam of unhinged power and need for it when it was announced that his brother would be embarking on a Crusade to recapture Jerusalem for the glory of God and the Church.  Robin had only met him once, but it was enough for him to understand that this Crusade needed to be finished quickly before the corruption that was Prince John, regent, spoiled the rule that was Richard the Lionhearted.

He quickly hid his own face by bowing his head as the other peasants did the same, hoping that the Prince would not recognize him in the garbs of a peasant.  No doubt that his deeds had given much credence to his image and appearance.  As the small entourage thundered by, he wondered what the Prince was doing here in Nottinghamshire.  Was the Sheriff in serious trouble?  Was a new Sheriff to replace him?  A million other questions flitted through his head and he glanced back down the streets, the ones that would lead out of Nottingham and to parts of the shire.

He wanted to visit Marian and make sure she was doing all right; wanted to go back to the gang to make sure that everyone was all right and that they had enough money for Will to make the last of his purchases, but…  He bit his lip as he looked towards the castle, looming over the town.  Prince John’s arrival spoke volumes and he wanted to know what the man was up to.

Shaking his head, he let loose a quiet sigh and wrapped his cloak tighter around him, preserving the warmth in the chilly fall air from making him cold.  There was only one decision he needed to make.

Robin turned and headed towards the castle.

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

Marian tended the fire in the hearth, making the fire blaze a bit hotter as the wooden logs were consumed.  “Better?” she asked, glancing at her father who was sitting in a high-backed chair, near the fire, blankets covering his frail, thin form.  She tried to keep her voice light, but it was hard to see her father like this, reduced to such a weakened state.

“Thank you, Marian,” her father’s blue eyes were bright and he attempted to smile, his lips pulling across his emaciated face.  “You should get some rest.  You’ve been taking care of everything in the house for the past week.”

“I will,” she smiled slightly, putting the hot poker to the side and went over to embrace her father.  “I’m just glad you’re feeling better,” she could feel the bones through the blankets and felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.  Ever since her father had gotten sick from the mysterious wasting disease he had, she had a feeling that he would not survive the coming winter.

Yet she held out hope and brought the medicine needed to combat the sickness, hoping by some miracle of God that he would spare her father for at least one more year.  It just seemed like months ago that he was as vibrant as always, attending functions and tournaments with her, giving her a shoulder to cry on, keeping her healthy when she was recovering from her shoulder wound and from the illness she had contracted in Nettlestone.

He had even kept Gisborne at bay during those times, and she had been so grateful for his efforts.  Now…now it seemed like he was literally slowly dying in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it.  There were times when she had just sat in her room, tears silently streaming out of her eyes.  Sometimes Robin was there with her, holding her as she cried, but more often than not, she was alone with her grief.

A gentle knock on the front door made her look towards it and she gave her father a brief kiss on his cheek before hurrying to the door and opened it.  Rowan stood on the steps, his boyish features maturing almost everyday into manhood.  He had a sheepish smile on his face, but nonetheless held out the small jar of medicine he had in his hands towards her.

“Thank you,” she opened the door wider as she took the medicine from him and gestured for him to come in.

Ever since the summer solstice tournament, Rowan had visited her and her father whenever he got the chance, hoping to learn how to be a proper squire and acquire other useful skills to help his village of Treeton.  Since her father had gotten sick, he had also become a go-between whenever Robin was not able to bring the medicine her father needed due to the Sheriff’s men still watching her house.

“Hello Sir Edward,” Rowan greeted her father with a slight bow of his head, “I apologize if I’m disturbing your afternoon nap…”

“No, no,” Edward cleared his throat roughly, shaking his head as best as he could under all of the blankets, “you know you are more than welcomed here young man.”

“Thank you,” Rowan bowed again before turning to Marian as she hurried to pour a dose of the medicine for her father, “I think Robin’s going to visit later, though I’m not too sure.”

“Rowan?” she looked at him, concerned.

“Rumor had it that they were ambushed this morning by guards belonging to Prince John.  Then a bunch of guards in colors I didn’t recognize raced through the main streets of Nottingham up to the castle.”

“Is Robin well?” Marian felt a spike of fear run through her at the thought of the Sheriff ambushing Robin and his men and at the thought that the Prince’s guards were involved.  She had heard the rumors that her love and the band of outlaws he ran with were getting extremely popular.  In the rare times she did go into Nottingham, there were constant whispers of the latest exploits or tall stories of exploits that Robin Hood and his Merry Band of Men had accomplished.

Most of those stories were just that, tall tales, but Marian knew that Robin’s infamy was growing.  She finished pouring the needed dose and gave it to her father who drank it all with a wince of disgust on his face.

“He looked fine,” Rowan replied, “do you want me to find Much and the others?”

“No,” she shook her head, but before she could say anything else, the sudden thunder of hooves and whinnies of horses followed by men shouting made her stare at her door in concern.  Even Rowan looked alert, a frown on his face.

She opened her mouth to ask if he had been followed when suddenly, the window next to the door shattered as a torch was thrown in.  Marian involuntarily screamed as the burning embers hit the ground and the curtains next to the window burst into flames.  “Marian!” her father shouted and she turned, her eyes wide and fearful, before she realized that her father needed her help getting out of the house.  Hurrying over to him, she coughed and squinted as the smoke from the fire spread throughout the house before Rowan appeared by her side and together the two of them lifted Edward gingerly to his feet before hurrying him towards the door.

Rowan reached out and flung the door open and Marian breathed in a quick breath of fresh air, coughing slightly before hurrying out of the house.  She felt her father stumble along side her, but kept pulling him further away from their house.  Turning her head slightly, she felt a choked sob escape her lips as she saw that the roof was now on fire, the flames quickly spreading to her father and her room.  All of her possessions, keepsakes…everything…

“No…” she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken.  She could feel her father trembling beside her.

“Milady look out!” Rowan suddenly shouted as he ran from doorway of the house, pointing frantically towards her.

Marian opened her mouth, puzzled and stricken before she realized that the young man was pointing behind her and turned.  With the rapidly setting sun in her eyes, she barely caught the glint of a blade headed towards her, but managed to duck and pull her father down at the same time as the sword and the rider upon the horse which held it whistled past her.  Shock ran through her for a split second before she realized that brigands were attacking her.  She watched in horror as several others on horseback appeared, a couple of them riding past the burning flames of her and her father’s house, adding more torches to the fire.

Anger filled her as she surged to her feet, her father on the ground, still trembling from the cold or from shock, she did not know, and she charged the nearest one who wheeled his horse to face her.

“Feisty little one aren’t ya?” he drawled out, flourishing his sword once, “think you could take down a man from a horse?”

She glared at him, and he threw his head back laughing before spurring his horse to meet at her.  She bit her lip as he swept by before ducking and rolling at the last minute.  His blindingly fast swipe nearly took the hairs off of her head, but her hands reached out and managed to grab for the bow and a handful of arrows that he had on the back of his horse’s saddle.  Turning around with her bounty in hand, she immediately hurried over to her father’s huddled form and strung up an arrow, pointing it at the various brigands that surrounded her and her burning house.

“Rowan!  Find Robin!  Find the others!” she shouted, weaving her bow back and forth, warning the others to stay back.  Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the rest of Knighton fleeing in panic from a couple of others who rode around, torching barrels of hay and other houses.

“Stay where you are boy, unless you want arrows in ya!” the leader of the band, the one she had stolen the bow and arrows from shouted, pointing his sword over her shoulder at Rowan.

“M-Milady-“

“I’ll cover you,” she let loose her first arrow, nearly nicking the flank of the leader’s horse.  Turning slightly she gave Rowan what she hoped was a confident smile, “Run!”

She immediately notched another arrow and shot it at another man who charged at her.  She could barely hear Rowan scrambling behind her as she watched the arrow go wide.  Gritting her teeth, she turned and she hurried to fire another one at one of the horses chasing Rowan as he dashed towards the outskirts of Sherwood Forest.  She knew she was not the best of shots, certainly not compared to Robin, but she was pleased to see that her arrow had found the flank of the horse, making it stumble and fall to the ground, pitching its rider high up into the air.  Turning back around, she was about to notch her last arrow when the glint of metal against her neck made her freeze up.

To her left, she saw the leader still sitting upon his horse, sword pointed at her throat.  “You’ve been a very bad girl, Lady Marian,” he tsked in a not so gentle manner, tapping the flat edge of his sword against her jaw.

She resisted the urge to flinch lest receive a wide cut across her neck from the sharp point of the double-edged sword.  Her hands still held the bow and lone arrow taunt, and to her dismay she could see them tremble from the effort she was using to pull against the string.  “How do you know who I am?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she kept the string taunt.

“Silly little girl,” the leader shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, “you’ve been such a thorn in the Sheriff’s side.  He wants you out of the way…”

“You’re going to kill me?” it was hard to keep the tremble out of her voice as she realized that for all of her efforts, the Sheriff had realized she had been helping Robin out ever since his return from the Holy Lands.

“P-Please…don’t…” her father croaked from where he was huddled.

“Shut up old man!” the sword point suddenly retracted from her neck as the leader waved it in the air, glaring down at her father.  “You, the Sheriff wishes he can kill.”

“Then do it,” she could feel tears streaming down her face as she finally loosened the string, dropping the weapon by her feet.  She turned and glared up at the leader of the brigands, mercenaries hired by the Sheriff no doubt, “Kill me because I won’t be hung in front of everyone in Nottingham.”  Her only hope now was that Robin would find her, grieve and mourn for her, but learn how to move on.  She silently whispered her apologies to Robin as she stood there, her fists clenched with anger, tears falling out of her eyes.

The brigand leader barked out a single burst of laughter before raising his sword.  She dared not track the path of the sword, but instead, kept her eyes locked on the man’s face, burning her hatred into his eyes.  So concentrated was she on the man’s face that she did not notice the way the sword was angled towards her before a brief flash of pain erupted across her head.

Surprise filled her and for a split second she realized that he had not intended to slice her head away from her body, but merely clipped her across the head with the flat of his blade.  Then black ness engulfed her as she collapsed to the ground, knocked unconscious.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP**

 

Much sprinkled some more of the herbs he had onto the roasting rabbits he had cooking on the spit in their camp.  It was already dark, but the fire lit the camp in enough light for him to see the outlines of the others sitting nearby.  Turning the spit gingerly, he sprinkled the other side before sitting back to admire his handiwork.  Robin would be pleased about dinner tonight and also that the rest of the gang had made it back safely.  However, they only had just a couple of bags of money to show for their ambush today, but Much supposed it is better to live than to be rotting in the Sheriff’s dungeons.

Heavy footsteps suddenly vibrated the ground next to him and he glared up at Little John who had extended a hand towards the spit.  “It’s still raw,” he said pointedly before a twittering of laughter erupted around the fire.

“Just checking,” Little John’s voice was full of mirth to which Much realized that the big woodsman had been trying to get him riled up, again.

Sniffing loudly, he glared at the others around the fire, knowing full well that they could barely see him as he could see them.  “Very funny guys,” he groused.  He hated that ever since he had followed his former master in the forest that the gang thought to always try to play jokes on him.

“That joke never gets old,” Allan chuckled somewhere to his left and he kicked a few leaves at him.  “Hey!” was the indignant reply and Much grinned, glad that something irritated him before a hail of leaves came flying at him.

He cried out, throwing up his hands and spitting out dried leaves, trying to fight through the smelly, dirty, half rotting _things_ before he managed to swipe all of them to the ground.  “That’s it!” he glared towards Allan’s direction, “no food for you tonight!”

“Oh, playing mother now, aren’t we?” Djaq’s voice came across the fire and he glared towards her, seeing her dark eyes glinting with humor as the fire crackled and blazed.  Sitting next to her was Will, laughing into the sleeve of his woolen shirt.

“I’m not your mother-“

“I hope not,” was Little John’s gruff, but amusing reply from his right.

“-and if you guys keep this up, none of you will get food!”

“Oh, did he just threaten us?” Allan’s voice was teasing, but Much frowned.  He had long hated the man’s teasing tone.  But every time he had tried to talk to Robin about it, his master just did not get it and told him that it was all in good fun.  The tone was too similar to the same teasing tone had had always gotten from Carter, another one of Robin’s friends back in the Holy Land.

At least Carter was still in the Holy Land otherwise, he would probably snap from the constant teasing the two of them would probably put upon him.  Why his master allow such things were beyond his comprehension.

“Yeah, I think he threatened us,” Will’s quiet voice spoke up and Much sighed loudly, shaking his head.

“Will, you too?” he had hoped that the young carpenter, just a couple of years younger than he was, would be an ally between the others, but it seemed time and time again, Will always sided with Allan.  Just his luck too.

“Argh!” he pulled his hat in frustration before turning the spit once more, a bit more harshly than he had intended, “you all find food, because this is for me and for Robin!”

“Then I believe we should subdue the cook and take the food for ourselves!” Djaq crowed laughing, the others joining in with her.  He shook his head, but had to smile at her attempted stage of a rebellion.

However, all of them immediately quieted down as they heard the crunch of leaves underfoot, hurrying towards them at a fast pace.  Much saw Allan and Little John stand up first, their weapons drawn before he too half stood up; gripping the handle of the spit he was cooking with.  His sword and shield rested near the log he was sitting on, but he knew how to use anything as an improvised weapon, his years in the Holy Land taught him that.

Both Will and Djaq had also stood up, and to his surprise, or rather he knew he should not be surprised, Will had pushed their resident healer in back of him, trying to shield her.  His grip tightened on the spit and he was about to lift it to attack whoever was running towards them when Rowan’s face appeared on the edges of light the fire was giving off, making all of them breathe a sigh of relief.

“Rowan?” Little John moved around the fire towards the young man who looked winded and completely out of breath.

Much could not quite see from his angle, but he thought he saw Rowan’s clothing streaked with soot, dirt, something dark.

“You have to come with me, quick!  Lady Marian’s under attack by raiders!” the young man managed to gasp out before tugging on Little John’s sleeve.

His statement about Marian in trouble was all that was needed to spur the outlaws into action.  Much immediately doused the fire before grabbing his sword and shield as the others mounted their horses, Rowan riding double with Djaq, headed towards Knighton Hall.  However, he realized that Robin needed to be warned and there was a good chance his master was still in Nottingham or at least on his way back to camp.

“I’ll go find Robin!” he shouted at the others, before peeling off from the group mounting his own horse and headed towards the city.  A niggling sense of worry filled him as he knew that his master would not react well to the fact that Marian was under attack.  He sent up a quick prayer to God that Marian was all right, and that she was able to fend off her attackers without any harm to her.

Because if she was hurt in any way, it would herald the return of the more dangerous side of Robin that frightened Much more than anything else.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

After so many months of slipping in and out, Robin knew the corridors and halls of NottinghamCastle like the back of his hand.  So getting past the regular guards the Sheriff always had on staff was easy.  However, getting past the added guards that wore the colors of Prince John that was a little harder and took a bit more of a creative bent on Robin’s behalf.  But this time, some spilled tar, a bunch of chickens, and the possibility of a lit wagon of hay did the trick in making Prince John’s guards panic and think someone was attacking them.  The straw dummy upon a horse wildly galloping through the town also added fuel to the fire and made the chase even more interesting.

He now walked up a set of stairs, towards the Great Hall’s second-floor balcony, dressed in the guise of one of the castle guards.  His Saracen curved blade and cloak had been left behind one of the storage closets in the kitchens.  His bow and arrow pack had been taken back to camp by Much as it was too obvious and too conspicuous for him to be in the town with them strapped to his back.

“Halt!” one of the guards spoke up as he approached the set of wooden doors that lead to the balcony.

“Relief duty,” he muttered, glad that the helmet he wore changed most of his features.

“Where’s Ant?” one of the guards asked, puzzled.

“Sick, been coughing all day,” he replied quickly, wondering if the guard was asking about the one he had knocked out.

“Oh,” the guard paled slightly and gulped audibly, “even had a drink with him too yesterday.”

“The weather’s changing, could be nothing,” Robin shrugged, leaving the rest of his sentence to hang.

“You know…I think I feel a tickle in my throat,” the same guard rubbed his neck, clearing his throat abruptly before hurrying past him, “go on then…hey Rob, you mind staying-“

“After what you just pulled?” the other guard looked nervous.

“I’m sure no one’s going to peek in, if the two of you want to get checked out by the physician,” Robin said innocently, fighting to hide the grin from his face.

“Uh…yeah, sure.  Prince’s men’s here and all of that,” the guard named Rob smiled hesitantly before the two guards brushed past Robin and headed down the stairs he had just come up from, their booted feet clattering loudly on the stone ground.

Robin finally allowed himself to chuckle a bit at the sight of the scared guards before pushing one of the doors open slightly, allowing the conversation from within to spill out.  He dared not go any further lest risk being seen by the Sheriff or worst Prince John.  Peering in as best as he could with his helmeted head leaning against the wooden door, he saw glimpses of the Prince, pacing back and forth in front of the Sheriff who was seated in his chair and Gisborne, leaning against the wall, his arms casually crossed.

However, he could tell even from this distance with his sharp eyes that Gisborne was anything but calm.  In fact, the man looked nervous and pale.  Whatever the Prince had said, or was saying, it made him uneasy.  Good, a part of him enjoyed watching the traitor squirm.  Taking a deep, but quiet breath, he let it out slowly before forcing his senses to sharpen and concentrate on the three of them in the room down below.

It was an ability taught to him during his time in the Holy Land, serving with the Hashashin as a go-between the King and the mysterious group who refused to side with either the Saracens or the Crusaders.  Specifically it had been taught to him by the Rafiq of the Damascus bureau he had been operating out of with his friend and head of the Hashashin Altaїr.  He had used it to search out the details and pluck information from the mouths of others from far away during his mission, though he knew he was not as good with it in long distances.

Hopefully with this much silence and only three others talking, well, at this time it was just Prince John, he would be able to hear their conversation clearly, as if he had been standing next to them.

“…treaty has been completed?”

“Ah, my scribe has been working on it, Your Majesty,” the Sheriff replied to the Prince’s inquiry.

“Has he told anyone?”

“No, milord, he’s mute,” Gisborne added, lips thinning.

“You sure?” the Prince looked at him shrewdly.

“Accidents can happen,” the Sheriff offered up as if it was nothing.

“Yes, accidents _do_ happen,” Prince John emphasized before walking to the other end of the table, tapping his knuckles into the table, a heavy clunking metal sound filling the air.  The metal was from all of the rings the Prince wore on his left hand, including his own signet ring.

“Leopold will arrive soon, within a week’s time, last I heard,” Prince John started conversationally, “and yet, here the two of you are, standing here.  How very disappointing.”

Robin could see the Sheriff’s jaw tighten before the man cleared his throat, “Hood will be captured by then.”

He had to suppress the grin threatening to appear on his face.  How many times had he heard that statement and how many times was it not true.  The Sheriff was posturing now, buying time, unable to face his failure to Prince John of all people.  He was here to gather information as to why the Prince was here, but it also did not mean he could enjoy hearing the Prince ream Vaysey out for his incompetent failure.

“You know, my men nearly caught him robbing your latest tax collections today,” that statement from the Prince immediately killed Robin’s good mood and he focused once more on the conversation down below.

“Ah,” the Sheriff’s lips twitched as if he could not decide whether to smile or frown.

“Your men, are incompetent.  Perhaps the execution of a few would properly motivate them to do their jobs?  Or is it that you are in league with Robin Hood?”

“Milord, I would never-“

“Then why?!  Why of all times you’ve had Hood in your grasp would you let him go?!” the Prince suddenly shouted, leaning across the table, glaring at Vaysey as he shrank back into his chair, his eyes wide with surprise and shock.

“Y-Your Majesty-“

“You’ve had Hood for the first time back when he turned himself in.  You could have killed him then instead of parading him around for the peasantry to see,” the Prince hissed softly, almost too softly for Robin to be able to hear, but nonetheless he was able to make out most of the words.

“You had him when Prince Malik came for negotiations and yet, you were not able to kill him then-“

“I…I have a perfectly good explanation for that.  You see assassins came after the Prince and were going to kill everyone else-“

“You were overcome by your greed for wealth,” the Prince shot back, “is not the power I provide and give you enough?  Or do you wish the Crown too?!”

“M-Milord, I don’t-“

“And don’t you look so smug, Guy of Gisborne.  You pitiful, title less holder of no lands,” the Prince suddenly pulled back from his confrontation with the Sheriff and instead, pinned his angry gaze upon Gisborne who was blinking in surprise.

“That’s-“

“-precisely what you are,” the Prince finished for him, rapping his knuckles on the long table loudly, “you would could not even follow an order written and signed by my own hand!  You let James of Atherstone parade around like the pompous arrogant ass that he was and you could not even kill the Sheriff here.”

“I thought those-“

“You thought wrong,” the Prince stepped back and glared at the two of them, “pathetic lot the two of you are.  I am giving you one last chance.  Fail me this time, and both of you will never live to see my England when Leopold comes to sign the treaty for my brother’s lands.”

“My Prince, Hood has allies, even in villages-“

“Then burn them,” the Prince shot back, glaring at Gisborne, “burn the whole damned Sherwood Forest for all I care.  I want Hood dead.  Do you hear me?  Dead.”

“Your Majesty,” the Sheriff started up hesitantly, “to kill him now, he would be a martyr-“

“Well that’s through your own fault, isn’t it, Vaysey?”

Robin saw the Sheriff’s lips press into an extremely thin line before glaring down at the table.  This was even better than he had imagined and doubly even more entertaining.  However, he killed the smile just as quickly as he saw the Prince lean down towards the table once again, pinning both the Sheriff and Gisborne with a steady look.

“Rumor has it that my brother is returning soon.  This treaty must be signed and all obstacles eliminated before he returns,” the Prince’s eyes darted back and forth between the two.

“How soon?”

“My spies put him less than a month away,” the Prince’s eyes flashed angrily, “Hood must be dead before Leopold arrives.  The treaty must be signed in two weeks time and everything, I mean everything, every single traitor, sympathizer, everyone who has supported the King or Hood, must be eliminated by any means necessary before my brother arrives.”

“Milord, but that’s…the people…” Gisborne looked a bit pale at the prospect.  However, the Sheriff did not and turned in his seat slightly to glare at his second-in-command.

“Oh grow a spine Gisborne,” Vaysey shook his head and plastered a smile on his face as he turned back to face the Prince, “it will be done, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” the Prince replied, “Because the price of failure will be your heads I present to my brother on a platter when he arrives.”

                                    *                      *                      *

By Robin’s reckoning when he finally left, it was just a little past dinner time judging by the smells of food being cooked emanating from the houses in the town.  He managed to slip past the gate guards who looked to be occupied with their own meals and found his horse, still standing quietly by the hitching pole.  He patted the horse’s neck before mounting it and wheeled it towards the path that led to the forest.

Riding towards Sherwood Forest, he decided to head back to camp, feeling a bit hungry himself, but also for the fact that he knew Marian and her father would want to eat without his company to disturb them.  He would wait until he was sure Edward had retired for the night before visiting Marian.  Spurring the horse to a fast cantor, he was about to turn to the main path that led deeper into the woods when he saw a frantic looking rider, barely visible under all of the shade and moonlight that stretched long dim shadows in the woods.

As the rider drew closer, he squinted and could barely make out the familiar multi-colored poncho that was Much.  “Much?” he asked, wondering why he was agitated as he pulled his horse up next to him.

“Marian…under attack, Knighton Hall,” his manservant gasped out and Robin’s eyes widened in horror.

“Who?!” he demanded, shaking Much by the shoulder.

“Don’t know, the others,” his former manservant struggled to take a deep breath, “they went there…Rowan told us to come.”

“Let’s go,” he immediately spurred his horse into action, putting it in a fast gallop as he took a side path that led towards Knighton Hall.  Behind him he heard Much’s gasping breaths as the two of them tore through the woods.  If anything happened to Marian, he ruthlessly quashed the thought.  Marian was more than capable of taking care of herself.  She was a fighter and would always be, no one could defeat her…no one.

He soon smelled it before he saw it.  Acrid smoke, the stinging sensation in his eyes, and the scent of burning wood, straw; however there was also a scent in there that Robin was all too familiar with, the churlish, fattening scent with just hints of sweat mixed in that was human flesh.  He nearly gagged at the smell, the memories of the vicious long battle at Acre rushing through his mind as he and Much burst out of the woods and into the edges of Knighton.

His horse abruptly halted, whickering its displeasure at being so close to a fire, but Robin was too fixated on the scene before him.

The whole town was engulfed in flames.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            Hello all and welcome to my last multi-part story that I will be writing for the _BBC Robin Hood_ fandom.  I believe that it is time to conclude my alternate universe take after the events of Season 1 and I’m glad that all of you have taken the time to read this and my other stories.  I say this is the last story only because I don’t want to suffer from fandom burnout like I did with some of my other stories, so I am ending it.  I know there are a few missing stories, especially _Quarantine_ and _Witch Hazel_ , but perhaps in a few years down the road, those stories will be written.  Otherwise, the occasional one-shot may pop up.

            So pull up a chair, stick around, because this is only the start of a fast-paced, exciting conclusion to the legend of Robin Hood!  Each part of the trilogy will have 3 sub-parts, for a total of 9 parts as of right now.  There may be more than 9 after this story is done depending on the level of detail and scenarios to come.

            I promise, this story will have a much better ending than Season 2 or Season 3.  ^_^


	2. Return to the Beginning - Part 2: Vestige

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Beginning

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.

_Part 2 – Vestige_

 

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

“Marian!” Robin shouted, barely restraining the desperation that was within him, as he dismounted his horse.  He caught his bow and arrow pack tossed by Much before slinging it behind him and notching an arrow, wary for any of the raiders that had attacked Knighton and Knighton Hall.

“Robin!” Will’s call made him turn to his left, lowering his bow slightly to see the rest of the gang running towards him and Much.

“What happened?” he asked, seeing soot and ashes streaking across parts of their clothes.

“We’ve been trying to get the trapped villagers out, but…” Allan trailed off, shaking his head, “whoever did this…”

“Is Marian-“ Robin made a move to head towards where he could see a small crowd of villagers huddled on the outskirts of the other side of Knighton, but Little John abruptly put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.  He glared up at the big man, but it was Djaq who came forward, producing a small parchment in her hands.

“Robin…” she had tears in her eyes, “we found this by the stables in the back.”

He snatched the piece of parchment from her hands a lot more roughly than he intended to, but the grief, rage, torrential mix of emotions he felt swirling with him was threatening to overwhelm him.  If the raiders, brigands, whoever they were, if they had harmed even one hair on his beloved Marian’s head…

The letter was succinct as possible and just said that a price of at least one-thousand gold pieces was to be delivered to one of the local pubs in Nottingham and she and her father would be released.  A wave of despair filled him as he thought of Edward, sick and without access to his medication.  That would hurt her the most, seeing her father in such a state, the two of them captured by bandits.  The only reassurance he had was that the note said that both Marian and Edward would be released, which gave him some hope that she was still alive and unhurt.

“What does it say?” he distantly heard Much say, but ignored him as he stared at the bold letters.  He wanted to shred the letter up, get on his horse and chase after the bandits that had kidnapped Marian and her father.

“What does it-“

“Much, shut up,” Robin glared at his former manservant who shrank back, his expression fearful and he realized what he had done.  Biting his lip, he grimaced and shook his head, “I’m sorry Much…just…”

“The kidnappers want one-thousand gold pieces for Marian and her father,” Djaq placed a hand on Much’s shoulder, guiding him slightly away from Robin.

“That’s…do we even have that much gold on us?” he barely heard Much’s stunned exclamation as he stared at the road into Knighton Hall, hearing the thundering sound of hoof beats getting closer.  Through all of the black smoke from the burning houses, he could barely make out banners, but with the aid of the blazing fires, he definitely did catch a glimpse of the colors hanging on the banners.

“Everyone!” his grip on the letter tightened as he turned, “get back to the woods now!”

“Robin what-“ the words died on Will’s lip as they all saw the distant banners, lit up like eerie flags by the fires, coming towards them.

There was a mad scramble as the outlaws dashed to their horses and Robin mounted up on his, his lips pressed into a thin line.  He knew that no matter what, they were probably going to be seen running away from Knighton Hall, giving the soldiers bearing the colors of the Sheriff the idea that it was them who set fire to the whole town.  But if they stayed, then they would all but seal their own fates.  Either way, they were in trouble.

Robin wheeled his horse around, his mount whickering its displeasure at being handled so roughly and so close to the burning house, as he made sure the rest of his gang had a good head start.  He glanced down at the parchment; half crumpled in his hand, and contemplated whether or not to leave it on the ground for the Sheriff’s men to find.  If he took it with him, he hoped that he would be able to study it further and perhaps find some clue as to which band of raiders had taken Marian, but if he left it here, then perhaps the Sheriff would see that it wasn’t his gang that had burned the town down and took Marian.  However, that possibility was slim since he knew the Sheriff was getting increasingly irate in the past few months.

The man would consider it, and would also probably blame him at the same time, like he had done when Joe Lacey had been attempting to assassinate the Sheriff.  But…Robin knew that there was a slim chance and an ironic one at that – he would have to trust that his rival for Marian’s affections, and the very same man that had nearly killed the King in the Holy Land, would be able to figure out that it was not he who had kidnapped Marian and her father, but rather someone else.

Robin made his decision and dropped the parchment on the grass before heeling his horse and galloped into the forest, following his gang back to their camp.  A very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP**

 

The outlaws and Rowan arrived back at their camp, hungry and exhausted.  Robin immediately saw to it that the young man was given a generous amount of water to help with his coughing from all of the smoke.  The rest of the gang however, sat in the inky darkness as Much and Will started the fire once more.  However, none of them had an appetite, least of all Robin who sat pensively on one of the logs used as a makeshift bench, staring at the growing embers of the fire.

The silence grew, save for the occasional pop and crackle of the fire, until Djaq was the first one to speak up, her voice tentative and hesitant.  “Robin…what are we going to do?”

“Find the two of them, that’s what,” Allan immediately answered, “look, I don’t mean to be funny, but the Sheriff’s going to blame us for this, no matter what and I don’t fancy another swing from the hangman’s noose.”

“Yeah, but where do we start?” Will asked, sitting back as the fire grew.

“Forrest could know.  I’ll go,” Little John said gruffly.

“Remember what happened the last time we encountered your friend?  They had the witch-“

“She wasn’t a witch Allan,” Djaq cut in derisively, “just a scared young girl with some herbal knowledge-“

“Knowledge that nearly got us killed!” Allan shook his head.

“Hazel wasn’t-“

“You’re just biased because she’s Eve’s younger sister,” the resident thief and con man glared at Much who had tried to protest the young Hazel’s innocence.

“Well…of course,” Much spluttered, unable to come up with a reasonable retort to Allan’s accusations.  The gang all knew that the one who had gotten the shortest end of that stick was both Robin and Allan, Allan having ingested another plant that made him sick to the stomach and had nearly killed him.  Whether or not it was an accident on Hazel’s part was another story, depending on which gang member was asked.  Even the rest of the gang had not come out of their encounter with the young Hazel unscathed.

“Robin?” Rowan had watched the gang’s conversation degenerate into a squabble, but had noticed that their leader was silent, staring pensively into the now roaring fire which was re-heating the rabbits on the spit.

Robin shook his head minutely, but not from Rowan’s question, rather it was from his own inner turmoil.  The King was returning, that was imminent and it explained why Prince John was in Nottinghamshire.  But the Prince was planning some sort of ambush for his brother to make sure that he did not even set foot upon English soil and wanted a land-treaty finalized with Leopold V, Duke of Austria before his brother’s return in less than a month.

That meant that the treaty was to happen within the two week period.  The same amount of time it would take to find Marian and rescue her and her father from the raiders who had attacked Knighton Hall.  Even with Little John’s old gang helping them, Sherwood Forest and the surrounding areas beyond was a lot of ground to cover.  There were other highwaymen, brigands, and raiders entrenched in areas.  All of them could have kidnapped Marian and Sir Edward to hold for ransom.

If Gisborne believed that his own gang was innocent, and they were also looking for Marian, a thought he highly doubted, the order still stood that Robin Hood and his men were to be captured and brought before the Sheriff, complicating matters.

Robin knew that he needed to stop Prince John and the Sheriff’s plans with the Duke of Austria, for his own King’s safety, but he also wanted to find Marian.  He bit his lip, the conflict of loyalties within him growing.  If the King was returning, he also needed to find proof that Gisborne and the Sheriff were in collusion with Prince John to assassinate his Majesty in the Holy Land.

“There’s not enough time,” he muttered mostly to himself.

“Robin?” Will’s curious tone silenced the rest of the gang as he looked up to see all of them staring at him, hoping for a decision, but he had no idea what they had been talking about for the past several minutes.

“The King’s returning,” he folded his hands in front of him and rested his chin on top of his fingers, “in less than a month.”

“Are you sure?” Djaq asked, “the last time-“

“Rowan and I saw Prince John ride into Nottingham and I heard his conversation between the Sheriff and Gisborne.”

“Robin, we know that the Sheriff and even the Prince hates us all.  You think it could be another trap of sorts?” Allan looked skeptical.

Robin paused for a moment, thinking back to the conversation he had heard between the three in the great hall of the castle.  There was no doubt in his mind of the fear that was in both the Sheriff and Gisborne’s eyes when the Prince threatened them.  The Sheriff was afraid of no one, not even him, save for Prince John.  That was real fear he had glimpsed at.  He nodded silently.  “The King will be returning in less than a month.”

“That’s great!  We can tell him what the Sheriff’s been up to and-“ Much abruptly stopped as Robin shook his head at him.  “Wait, why not?”

“Prince John plans to divide his Majesty’s lands up before then with Leopold V, Duke of Austria within the next two weeks before his brother’s return.  I fear that they also plan an ambush of sorts upon the King when that deal is done.”

“It will take us around the same time to find Marian and her father,” Little John spoke up, immediately understanding the predicament.

Silence filled the camp save for the crackle of the fire.  Robin knew that it was not unluckiness that had gotten both Marian and her father captured by raiders.  It was because due to his actions against the Sheriff, more raiders and highwaymen had taken the opportunity around Sherwood to attack hapless peasants and villagers.  The lack of enforcement of bringing Robin Hood and his gang to justice had spurred the more violent groups wandering around the edges of Nottinghamshire to think it was a ripe opportunity to attack.

Robin knew from Forrest and from Little John’s other contacts that most of the raiders tended to stay away from Sherwood, having long known that it was his domain, but with the incident with Hazel just a couple of months back, they had too battled a group of raiders who were a little too opportunistic.  Now…he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his own actions, his own reputation and flagrant display of rebellion against the Sheriff that had caused all of this.

“Robin, you can’t blame yourself,” Will spoke up, breaking the silence and he looked up to see their young resident carpenter staring at him, his eyes serious.

The corner of his lips twitched up in an attempt to smile, but he killed it just as fast.  Trust the youngest member of their group to try to cheer him up.  He knew that Will was only trying to deflect his thoughts, but there was the root of the problem.  If it truly was his fault, then he needed to rectify it before any more harm could befall anyone in Nottinghamshire.

“Master-“

“John,” he sucked in a cold breath and made his choice, “find Forrest.  Tell him that his men that they will be compensated, but we need to know where Marian is.”

“Master, the King…?”

Robin nodded to Much’s question, “I know, I’ll get to that in a second, Much.”  Turning to the others he focused on Rowan, “Rowan, I need you to go to the castle.  Tell the Sheriff what you know, that raiders kidnapped Marian and her father.  See what his and Gisborne’s reaction are and let me know.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Rowan looked a bit unsure and Robin nodded.

“As far as the Sheriff and Gisborne are concerned, you are still Marian’s squire.  If they ask you where you were all night, tell them that you were hiding in the woods.”

“Should I tell them that I saw all of you come to Knighton?”

Robin hesitated for a second before nodding, “Yes.”

“Wait, hang on, I don’t think that’s a good-“

“Allan,” he shot a look at their resident thief, silencing him before looking at the others, “we need to know what is going on in Nottingham and what kind of actions the Sheriff, even Prince John, are taking against us.”

“You really think the Sheriff will blame us for setting fire to Knighton and even kidnapping Marian and her father?” Djaq looked incredulous.

“It won’t be the first time,” Will nodded grimly, understanding where this was going.  “Sheriff’s blamed Robin before for shooting innocents when it was Joe Lacey, one of the former castle guards who wanted revenge against the Sheriff for letting his wife die the previous winter.  Sheriff made it look like Robin had killed a few of the castle staff.”

“What happened to this Joe?”

“Marian and I stopped him…” Robin still remembered the shock on Joe’s face when two arrows embedded themselves into his arm, sending him tumbling off the hill he was on and into the Sheriff’s hands where he was promptly killed.  It had left an ill taste in his mouth to betray an old friend, but he could not continue to let innocents be killed nor the Sheriff to dirty his name anymore.

Djaq’s eyes seemed to soften a bit in sympathy before she spoke up again, “What will the rest of us do?”

“Help Knighton rebuild until we can get more information.  Except, Will, I still need you to finish our winter quarters.”

“Got it,” Will said, “still need help though, carrying the materials.”

“I can help you there mate,” Allan clapped his best friend on the shoulder, “finally get to see where we’re all camping out this winter.”

“Rowan,” Robin looked at the young man, “it is best if you head over to the castle now.”

“Now?” the young man looked surprised.

“Before they suspect anything else.  I’ll take you to the edge of the forest so you don’t lose your way,” Robin replied getting up and saw the comprehension appear on his face as he too got up and headed to the horse he had taken from the stables of Knighton Hall before they all fled to the woods.  The others took it as their cue to break camp, Little John grabbing his staff and a piece of the rabbit meat that Much had started to parcel out before heading to his horse to find Forrest and his gang.

Will had moved to help Djaq pack a bundle of medicines and other supplies they would need when they returned to Knighton Hall, while Allan and Much moved to check the other horses.  Even though it was nightfall, each one of them knew that time was of the essence, and moved as if it was daylight.

In this moment of truth, Robin knew he could count on his friends.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Guy of Gisborne held the crumpled piece of parchment found near the burning remains of Knighton Hall in his hand, balling it into a fist.  His report to the Sheriff and to Prince John had gone well, so why did he feel like something was wrong?  He and his men had seen Hood and his men riding off into Sherwood after fleeing Knighton Hall.  A quick survey of the surviving peasantry in the village had shown that Marian and her father were not amongst them.

He had felt his own heart contract in fear at the thought of Marian perishing in the blaze that consumed her home until one of his men had shown him the parchment, spelling out exactly where she was.  Anger had filled him then and a million thoughts crossed his mind, none more so than her betrayal and fleeing with Hood into Sherwood, until he forced himself to reread the parchment once more.  It told of a ransom of one-thousand gold pieces and as much as it pained him to think about it, Hood had never once injured any of the peasants or nobles since his return from the Holy Land.

In fact, the outlaw thought himself as their savior and champion.  Hood seemed to exclusively prey upon himself and the Sheriff as his enemies, the only nobles he would dare to hurt.  He knew for a fact that Hood did have strong feelings towards Marian, so the possibility of him kidnapping her for ransom was not out of the question.  But to burn the whole town of Knighton down to the ground...was unlike him, he detested to think.  Someone who had been championing the peasantry would never suddenly just burn down the homes of those he championed, even he knew that.

But with the Prince's chilling words just hours ago telling him and Vaysey that they needed to capture Hood by any means, including burning down the villages and Sherwood Forest, well, it put things into perspective.  Besides, it was Hood's own actions that brought upon such misery and intense measures.  His lawlessness was like a contagion, and it brought all sorts of people into Nottinghamshire, including raiders who thought the shire was ripe for the picking and those lot.

Yet Vaysey and the Prince were convinced that Hood was to blame for what happened in Knighton after he had made his report.  He remembered when the Sheriff had Hood framed for the murders of several servants in the castle and while he thoroughly enjoyed seeing the man squirm and finally killing the Master-at-Arms, a part of him thought that the two of them were taking things a little to far this time.

Still, the real matter at hand was that it was an opportunity to get rid of Hood once and for all while also saving Marian and her father.  He would let Hood search for the raiders and perhaps in the ensuing battle, there would be an accident.  If there was no battle, then he and his men would be there to ensure that there was one.  When he had suggested his plan to the Prince and Vaysey, the Prince was extremely generous with loaning his men to him, surprising Gisborne.

The Prince had turned their supposed “meeting” to make sure Hood overheard the parts of the plan that the Prince wanted him to hear, into a dress down of what was wrong with Nottinghamshire and their incompetence and inability to capture Hood.  That had caught him off guard and he had found himself on the defensive.  However he had also taken a perverse pleasure at watching Vaysey squirm uncomfortably.  It served him right that some of the blame be upon him for his lack of action.

A sudden knock on the door to his quarters in the castle made him unclench his fist and look towards the wooden door.  “What is it?” he asked, annoyed that someone was disturbing him at this ungodly hour.  He was already exhausted from riding to Knighton Hall and back without the peasantry harassing him and making his report to both Vaysey and the Prince.

“The Prince requires your presence, milord,” the voice of one of the castle's many servants was muffled against the door.

“What for?” he growled out headed towards his bed, intent on ignoring the summons and sleeping.

“I do not know, milord.  I was bid to tell you to come with the piece,” the servant replied, stopping Gisborne mid-way.  He turned back around and yanked the door open, startling the servant who jumped back a few paces.  “S-Sir...”

“Tell the Prince I will be there shortly,” he replied sharply before slamming the door once more and headed over to his trunk, opening it and began to rifle through it.

Though to the untrained ear the words were nonsensical and gibberish, to Gisborne, it signaled another step in his ascension to power, or at least he hoped it would give him the power he wanted.  Vaysey had told him that Le Celle, the French Templar that had visited him when Hadiya had captured Hood, had implied that Prince John was part of the Templar Order or at least had very close ties.  The Frenchman had also implied that the Prince knew something about the fabled Pieces of Eden that were pursued in stealthy warfare between the Templars and their mortal enemies, the Hashashin, or Assassin Order.

The words of the servant come to fetch him confirmed that rumor that Prince John knew of the Pieces of Eden and knew that he had one on him, stolen in the bloody battle between Hadiya’s remaining assassins and Hood around three months ago.  He himself had never told Vaysey nor the Prince that he had his own Piece, hoping that the Prince would just examine the Sheriff’s that he had taken from Le Celle’s dead body, but it seemed that the Prince knew more than he let on.

When he had been contracted by the Prince, indirectly through Vaysey to kill the King in the Holy Land, his training had been with the branch of the Assassin Order that had broken away from the main group in Masyaf and was Templar-allied.  In the brief couple of months of training, he had heard the whispers of objects, ranging from something small to things looking like an ordinary staff, so powerful that some were thought to control minds while others could project illusions or even predict the future.  At the time he was there amongst the Templar-allied Assassins, there had been a contention between the Templars and Masyaf Assassins who had recently struck a blow to the Templars by killing two of their leaders, Robert de Sable and Armand Bouchart.  The Masyaf Assassins owned a very powerful Piece known as the Apple and the Templars’ ranks had been decimated.

While his primary mission to kill the King was so Prince John could take his brother’s throne and reward him with lands and titles that he could only dream of, he remembered Hadiya and her group mentioning that there were rumors that King Richard had allied himself with the Hashashin and they considered this an opportunity to strike back at them.  He had been given his own wolf’s head tattoo, a sign of being one of the Templars, yet not fully inducted into the fabled Order.  If he was, Hadiya had told him that he would have received his own partial Piece of Eden to aid him in his efforts.  His mission to kill King Richard would be that test.

There was only one complication: Robin of Locksley.  The man had thwarted his attack and he was forced to flee.  The only consolation and satisfaction he had taken away from his failed attempt was that he had been sure he had given Locksley a fatal wound.  When he had launched a second attempt to kill the King, he discovered, to his anger, the guards and patrols had been increased, making it impossible to even get close to the King’s camp undetected.  He had left the Holy Lands shortly after and his satisfaction at the hope that Locksley was now dead and the man’s lands his own along with Marian, was completely dashed when the smug bastard arrived back home in the early spring days.

His world had nearly been upended if it not been for Vaysey’s plans, but with Locksley now and outlaw, the man had just become a growing thorn in his side month after month.  He knew he could never get close enough to ambush Hood, the man was too wary and too quick and he _knew_.  There was no way to prove that he had been involved to kill the King, Vaysey had guaranteed that and he himself had made sure Pitts the physician, was killed before he could spill anything, yet…

Gisborne stiffened as his fingers brushed against the intricate carvings of the Piece of Eden he owned, stuffed at the bottom of his trunk.  He took it out and stared at it, the little pebble-sized thing resting in his palm.  It look ordinarily like a pebble, yet there was a cylindrical end to one side of it, making him think that it was probably a partial Piece of Eden, probably belonging to the end part of a staff.

He hefted its light weight in his hand before curling his fist and stepping out of his room, headed to the Prince’s chambers.  If the Prince wanted the Piece to use of his own, then he would make sure there would be a guarantee that he would get his land and title as promised for so long.

Arriving at the Prince’s chambers, he was admitted in after a few minutes and entered to see the Prince, still dressed in fineries, lounging on a chair, wine cup in hand.  Gisborne bowed, “Milord, you summoned me?”

“Yes,” the Prince’s voice was pleasant enough, a change from the screaming and yelling tone he had in the great hall earlier in the evening.  “Do you have what I ask for?”

“Yes, milord,” he knew that he could have lied and said that he had no idea what the Prince was talking about, but Gisborne knew better than to lie to the sovereign of England.  Straightening from his bow, he held out the partial Piece of Eden he acquired from Hadiya.

“Does it work?” the Prince asked in a simple tone.

“I…do not know how to activate it Your Majesty,” he replied slowly.

“Hmph,” the Prince shrugged, seemingly dismissive of his answer, “try it.”

“Milord?” Gisborne was confused.

“What good is something like that if you have not used it against our enemies,” the Prince pinned him with a glare, “if you will not use it, then why do you have it?”

“Because Hood-“

“Yes, yes, Vaysey told me that Hood has a Piece of Eden, but the man does not even use it,” the Prince waved a hand at him, “you on the other hand, have no excuse other than your laziness and unwillingness to bring justice and peace to this land-“

“Milord, I have tried-“

“-oh yes, tried so hard,” the Prince suddenly stood up from his chair, pointing an angry finger at him, “then I better see results starting tomorrow!  Use the Piece of Eden, otherwise, I will find another holder for the Locksley lands and you can find yourself destitute!”

“Milord, if I may,” Gisborne bit his lip, looking down at the ground.  He clenched his fists, the partial Piece’s intricate designs biting into his palm, “I have not used the Piece of Eden because I do not want to give away the upper hand or knowledge to Hood that we have one.”

“Hah!” the Prince laughed derisively, “are you so afraid of Hood that you would not even use a weapon when it is given to you Gisborne?!  Are you that spineless?!”

“I am not,” he shot back, affronted, “I believe caution would be best served when using these Pieces of Eden.  Death has followed those who have possessed such…weapons-“

“The Assassins are too concerned over their war in the Holy Lands to even look towards our great country,” the Prince sneered.

“Your Majesty, that may be incorrect, there was one of their Order sent here after Hadiya, the assassin I hired to kill Hood-“

“And she failed spectacularly.  Yes, I heard the details in my court report,” the Prince overrode him, “Gisborne, I know you can think a lot more clearly than this!  That is why I sent you to the Holy Land to kill my brother!  Think man, think!  You kill Hood before he could possibly send word out to his Assassin friend, and your problem will be solved.  There are also other ways of doing this!  Your hatred for Hood has blinded you to so many other opportunities.”

“You mean, his men?” Gisborne frowned, a spark of realization filling him.

The Prince smiled, a wolfish looking one, before sitting back down in his lounge chair and tapped the tips of his fingers against his wine cup.  There was the barest of nods before Gisborne realized the implications of his unspoken statement.  His Prince and future King was right, he had been too focused on Hood himself, letting his rivalry for Marian’s affections cloud his judgment.

Hadiya was right in that respect; he had grown soft in the months he had returned from the Holy Lands.  The Prince had sent him to kill the King because he had faith in him and somewhere after that failure and Hood’s return to Locksley, he had allowed that faith and his own cunningness to be blinded by his hatred and jealousy of Hood cloud his judgment.

But, as he bowed once more to the Prince, he would use that Piece not only to get rid of Hood and his men once and for all, but to force Hood into telling him where Marian was.  He would be rid of his enemy and Marian would be his forever.  Hood’s reluctance to use the Piece of Eden, his greatest weapon, would be his downfall.  His accomplishment of this task would be presented as a magnificent gift for both Prince John and Leopold V, Duke of Austria when they signed the treaty in a couple of weeks.

And, the slightly pleasant thought filtered through his mind, he would do it without Vaysey’s help.

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON** **VILLAGE**

 

Though it was mid-afternoon and still chilly, Robin felt comfortable, warm even, as he and Much had worked up a decent sweat helping the village of Knighton rebuild.  They had spent the morning clearing away some of the burnt debris, using water from the nearby stream to douse the embers that were still crackling away before moving the pieces to a small, but growing pile in one of the burnt fields of crops that had not come away unscathed.

The materials would be chopped up later to use as remnants for kindling for the coming winter months.  Spare wood and woodsman with sharpened axes had come from other towns as did other peasants to help the village in need, word of the raiders attack spreading like wildfire.

Robin had seen some trepidation in the peasantry’s eyes as they had arrived in the village and seen them working, but that had gone away in a few hours, the peasants satisfied that it wasn’t his gang that had burned a village down.  The rest of Knighton had immediately embraced the three of them, him, Much, and Djaq as they worked throughout the morning.  However, many of the women and some of the men who were injured trying to help their loved ones out of the burning houses last night had immediately surrounded Djaq, demanding her services as a field physician.

At first Robin was concerned that she was overwhelmed, but a few of the village women had pitched in to help her get any supplies or water she needed to tend to her patients and slowly the women of the village realized that she would treat each one of them as fast as possible, but also as accurately as possible before quietly lining up.

What surprised him the most was that the men he had thought were the Sheriff’s spies had stayed and were equally as shell-shocked as the rest of the villagers by the attack.  That had killed any and all doubt that the Sheriff had hired the raiders to attack Knighton – this was a definite random but bold attack by the raiders.  That meant that they had been scouting the village out for a while now and had figured Marian and her father as the reigning nobles of Knighton.

He wanted to go over and asked them if they had seen any of the raiders in the area before the attack, but the Sheriff’s spies had taken over grave digging duties and one of them was even reciting passages from the bible as they buried the bodies of the dead.  He was unwilling to disturb the peace or the ritual.

“Robin,” Much’s voice made him look away from the gravediggers towards his former manservant to see him holding a small ladle of water, drawn from the bucket of one of the young village girls who gave him a gap-toothed smile.

“Thank you,” he accepted the ladle gratefully and drank all of the water from within before handing it back to Much who placed it in the girl’s bucket.  She curtseyed once before running off, joined by a couple of other girls as they went to some of the other men to quench their thirsts.

“Much, see if Djaq needs any help,” he lifted the short ax in his hand before bringing it down firmly, lodging it into the base of the tree that they had felled just minutes ago.  The rest of the men would take it and cut it into the pieces they needed to rebuild one of the houses.

“The gravediggers?” Much asked, and he nodded before heading over to the three men who were standing by the latest grave they had dug.

One of the men was holding a bible, reading from the scriptures almost inaudibly while the other two hefted the covered body of a young man barely older than Will to Robin’s chagrin, and dropped it into the grave.  The two men then bowed their head before picking up their shovels and started to throw dirt back into the grave.

“Thank you,” he greeted and thanked them solemnly as he stopped near them, “for doing this.”

“We’re all just human,” the one who was holding the bible said, his mouth a thin line, unshed tears in his eyes, “don’t even know the bible that well…not even a priest.”

Robin licked his lips and nodded, “I know, but thank you.  The villagers already have enough to deal with.”

“Hey, we’re a part of this village too!” one of the gravediggers said indignantly, “not barbaric or outcasts, ya know?”

“I’m surprised that the Sheriff hasn’t sent his men over to help,” he shot back, staring at the three of them, looking for any sign at all and immediately saw all three look away, two of them finding the woods rather interesting while the other just stared down at his shovel.

“How didja figure?” the one staring down at his shovel finally spoke up.

Robin knew he had the upper hand and while a part of him wanted to yell at the three of them for accepting the Sheriff’s money and spying on Marian and her father, but he also knew that the three of them had taken upon the horrid task of digging graves, so they had some remorse for their actions and were truly part of the village.  He never knew anyone who voluntarily would dig graves except for those who were either forced into it or had a huge amount of guilt that they wanted off of their conscience.

“Did you see anyone before this happened?  Is this why you would dig graves?” he asked gently.

“No,” the one holding the bible turned his head to look back at him, “not even a single soul.  They may have come at night…but me mum had to take care of her at night always so I didn’t see a soul.  Now…”  The man heaved a trembling sigh before looking at one of the earlier graves dug and Robin realized that the man had lost his mother in the attack last night.

“My infant son…” the one who had stared at his shovel earlier gestured with his chin to a very tiny grave dug in the beginning of the row.

“Sister…brother, father,” the third one still stared into the woods, “wife’s gone and helped your Saracen woman.”

“Her name’s Djaq,” Robin replied absently, automatically as he stared at the three.  A slight feeling of guilt wormed its way up him as he realized the reason why the three had agreed to spy for the Sheriff on Edward Fitzwalter and Marian.  They each had their families to tend to and care for and like many men who were brought to the brink, instead of standing firm and fighting back like he had, they had caved and accepted the Sheriff’s demands.

These were not evil men as he had once thought them to be, no eviler than spies who needed to feed their families and take care of their loved ones.  Essentially they were like the rest of the villagers in Nottinghamshire; except they had made the ultimate deal with the devil and now they felt like they had to pay for it.

“Tell you what,” he reached over and clapped the shoulder of the one holding the bible.

“Matthew,” the man introduced himself.

“Matthew,” Robin nodded his head once before looking at the others.

“George, that’s Terence,” the one holding the shovel pointed to the more shell-shocked one of all of them, the one who had lost three people in his family.

“George, Terence,” Robin said the man’s name and was glad that the man turned his head slightly to acknowledge his greeting, “tell you what.  I know who all of you are and who you report to.  I know that you probably know a little more than you have been giving to the Sheriff, am I correct?”

“Er…” George scratched the back of his head, “the others hadn’t seen it, but yeah…  Kept quiet because…well, it didn’t feel quite right, especially not after that group of armed Saracens came storming by a few months ago.”

“You saw that?” Robin couldn’t keep the shock and anger out of his voice and saw all three flinch, “never mind.”

“Uh, yeah,” George looked a bit scared, “sorry.”

“Listen,” he shook his head, “the village needs you now, Marian and Edward need you, understand?”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded once.

“I cannot pay you what the Sheriff is probably paying all of you, but I can promise this, that if you help me find Sir Edward and Lady Marian, then you will have my protection from whatever retaliation may befall any of you if the Sheriff finds out.”

“What good would that do for us?” Terence replied, shaking his head derisively.

“Is gold going to do you any good in the winter months?  Wood and a roof over your head right now would do you the best,” Robin replied, knowing his words were harsh and tried to soften the blow, “I have it on good authority from both the Sheriff and Prince John that the King will be returning from the Holy Lands within a month’s time.”

“The Prince?  Did you go to London?” Matthew asked, shocked.

It was then that Robin realized that no peasant, perhaps not even the ones in Nottingham town, knew that Prince John had arrived.  To them, his flag and emblem could have been another visiting noble for all they knew.  The reason why the Prince had arrived with such a small entourage yesterday told him that the man did not want the whole of the shire to know that he was here.

But to what end, Robin didn’t know.

“Took a trip, few weeks ago,” Robin decided to humor the man’s ignorance.  There had to be a reason why the Prince did not arrive with such pomp and circumstance.

“So the King’s returning, truly?” Terence asked his tone skeptical.

“I can protect you from his wrath when he deals with the Sheriff and his brother when the King returns,” Robin nodded, “the King will be merciless to those who had abused his power during his absence.  I know because I served with him in the Holy Lands.  He will take no quarter for those that had betrayed his trust.”  It was bending the truth a little as far as Robin knew.  The King was generous and even had a kind heart.  He had seen some of the missives he penned to Salah al-Din himself, speaking of peace and philosophy, all while trying to avoid bloodshed.  But when there need to be battles won and fights to be fought, then he knew his King was a brilliant strategist in that respect.

His words seemed to have an effect on the three men whose eyes widened with fear at the prospect of the King’s wrath.

“But…the Prince’s army…the Sheriff’s men…”

“Immaterial,” Robin sliced part of the air with his hand, “there will be battle hardened Crusaders with the King when he returns.  We are many and very loyal to Richard himself.  You yourself have seen the peasantry downtrodden and beaten by the Sheriff.  When the King returns, there will be a revolt and their support will be thrown to King Richard himself.”

“Good point,” George muttered, looking a bit ill, “you have my loyalty, Robin.”

“And mine too,” Matthew hastily added.

Robin looked at Terence, the man who had lost his whole family in the raiders’ attack.  “Terence?”

Terence looked up at him, unshed tears in his eyes, but his gaze was a hardened look, “You better be right about this, Robin of Locksley.  Otherwise, we will be all dead men.”

“Are we all not already?” Robin shot back, sensing the defiance, yet something told him that Terence was a fellow kindred spirit, someone like him.

“Then we do not know it yet,” Terence replied before looking over his shoulder, “and you, Much, and Djaq better hide yourself.  It seems the Sheriff’s come to pay us a visit…”

Robin turned to see where Terence and the two others were looking to see indeed, the banners and colors of the Sheriff cresting over the ridges to get to Knighton before turning back and nodding his thanks to the three of them before he jogged hastily towards Djaq and Much.  It would be interesting to see what the Sheriff did for Knighton if anything at all.

                                    *                      *                      *

**SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

“It’s like a maze!  Except without wheat and in treetops,” Allan commented in amazement as he hefted a few boards of wood and placed it by the trunk of the tree that Will was going to climb to finish building the remainder part of their winter quarters.  His best friend was a genius, in Allan’s opinion, picking a part of Sherwood where the trees were so densely packed together that it was easy to hide the wood-building materials within the branches and even amidst some of the pine trees that littered the area.  One tree in particular caught Allan’s attention that was only slightly further away.  “That’s…a big tree…”

“Oak, by the looks of it,” Will replied, tugging at a rope he had looped around one of the branches of the smaller tree they were standing next to, “be a large hassle for anyone to cut it down or even burn it.”

“Major hassle,” Allan agreed, “we should call it the Major-Hassle-To-Burn-Down-Oak-Tree of Sherwood.”

“Major Oak?” Will suggested as he moved back to help Will tie off another rope before the young carpenter hoisted himself up on the branch and he tied a plank of wood to the other rope.

“Why not,” Allan shrugged, as Will pulled up the other rope holding the plank of wood up to his level before untying it and held it in place against several other planks that had the makings of a small room of sorts.  “Need help up there?”

“No,” Will half-shouted back down, “throw the other rope to the other side of the tree.  Need the wood there.”

“Got it,” Allan replied before doing as Will had told him to do.  He was mightily impressed with the idea of a tree house that spanned several trees and was almost hidden in plain sight of the falling leaves and almost bare trees.  Will had definitely picked a great spot for them to hide for the winter without being found by the Sheriff.  And if his friend’s talents were anything but, he was assured that their winter quarters, or even permanent quarters come next spring, it would keep them warm from the snowy elements.

Initially he had no idea why Robin would even want them to continue to build their winter quarters, especially with his announcement that the King would be returning in less than a month, but he had realized that their fearless leader was taking every precaution just in case it was another one of the Sheriff’s tricks.  Still, the idea of the King’s return evoked mixed feelings in Allan.  They were similar to the feelings he had the last time the Sheriff had said the King was returning, but this time, there was something different.

He loved being an outlaw, especially robbing from the rich; giving the poor their money was an afterthought in his opinion, but it was one that he had taken a little more seriously after the debacle with Anna’s gang during the summer solstice tournament.  The King’s return meant that Robin and Much returned to being nobles Will probably to Locksley or to Scarborough where his father and little brother fled after Will became an outlaw.  For him it meant that he was left to his own devices, no home to return to after Rochdale banned him and his brother upon pain of death from ever returning.  Anna had given him a chance to return, but she had died in a suicide fire to protect him, and his own brother Tom had died a couple of months before that, leaving him alone and without family.

He supposed he could ply his skills in the pubs or in some other shire around England, but Allan felt reluctant to leave the people that had been his family for the past year.  They accepted him, faults and all, for who he was…would the King’s return change all of that?  He shook his head violently, trying to clear the gloomy thoughts out of his mind.  It was probably another trick of the Sheriff’s and Prince John to lure them into a false sense of security, that’s what they wanted them to believe.

The sound of hoof beats rumbling across the woods made him frown and look around, his hands frozen in the middle of tying a knot to a wooden plank.  “Will?” he called out to the treetops.

“What?” Will’s slightly distracted voice replied after a few seconds.

“Is there supposed to be anyone-“ Allan suddenly yelped in surprise as a flurry of arrows flew close to his face and body.  He scrambled from where he was, ducking behind a tree and squeezing himself as tight as possible as he felt the impact of several arrows embed themselves into the trunk of the tree.  “Bloody hell,” he swore as he tried to peek out, but another wave of arrows flew past his face, forcing him back into his hiding spot.

“Find him and bring him to me!” Gisborne’s voice roared through the woods and Allan’s eyes widened.  How did Gisborne find them here?!  This was supposed to be the off-beaten path!  Even the others did not know that they were here!

He looked up to see that the only thing that indicated what they were doing here was the rope with the wood plank still attached to it.  The other wood planks were leaning against the tree Will was working on.  At least the fall foliage still hid most of the new camp…

His bow and arrow pack was sitting by the planks of wood, so that was not an option.  His sword though, Allan drew it hesitantly.  Even if Will leapt down from the trees and helped him, they would only be two men against however many of the Sheriff’s guards Gisborne brought with him.  There was also the possibility of Gisborne putting two and two together to figure out that this was where the gang was to make winter quarters, so if Gisborne escaped, then the Sheriff would know where they were and send his men after them.

That left the only option of silencing the guards and Gisborne and by silencing them, it meant killing them.  The option of possibly building new winter quarters was moot, only two weeks until the first snowfall by Little John’s reckoning.  They needed to defend this place…

Taking a quick breath, he hefted the sword in a silent salute, the pommel to his neck level, forehead touching the flat of the blade.  Anna had called it the knight’s salute, when she had taught him the skills he needed when he had been fighting as her knight in the annual games.  _This is for you, love_ , he thought his prayer to heaven before hefting the blade and charged out of his hiding spot.

He swung his longsword downwards, catching the first blade to meet him in a parry before stabbing straight at the guard.  A brief flicker of surprise filled him as he saw that the guards were not wearing the colors of the Sheriff, but rather the colors of the Prince.  The guard leaned to the side and blocked his blow before striking at him once more.

Allan deflected the blow and fought back, driving the man towards the other guards who were charging at him.  Beyond them, he noticed Gisborne, sitting on his horse, a dark expression on his face.  But his attention was diverted as Will came flying down from the tree that he had been putting the wood slab up in, axes in hand.  He rolled to his feet and started to attack the other guards who immediately retaliated at the newcomer into the fray.

Spurred on by Will’s sudden appearance, Allan tried to gain the advantage over the Prince’s guards and succeeded when he pushed the guard into the slab of wood still hanging from the tree, knocking him over.  Taking the other end that had swung towards him he immediately slammed it into another guard and smiled tightly.

“Allan, behind you!” Will’s warning made him suddenly turn and parry a blow with his sword, letting go of the board.  But that was a mistake as he suddenly saw stars and white lights explode across his vision.  The acute pain of the wooden plank slamming into his head was enough to drop him dizzily to his knees before he was slammed into the leaf-covered ground, his sword pressed flat against his stomach, one of his hands trapped underneath it, still gripping the weapon.

He flailed his other hand, trying in vain to grip onto something to throw the weight off of his back, but his arm was roughly pinned down and Allan grunted in pain as it was wrenched painfully across his back.  His vision, half blocked by the leafy ground saw the forms of the Prince’s guards stepping all over the ground before Will’s face appeared, also shoved into the dirt so the two of them were staring at each other.  Allan could see the flicker of fear in the younger man’s eyes but his expression was knitted into a resigned determination.

“Now then, seeing that we have subdued you and Hood has not even attacked means he is not here,” Gisborne’s voice tight and a shadow fell across their eyes as they both struggled to look up to see the Sheriff’s second looming over them.  “The question becomes, what were the two of you doing here?”

“Nothing, just carrying some supplies to make a swing, that’s all,” Allan shot back before biting his lip and wincing as his captured arm was wrenched further back.  “Nothing, nothing I swear!”

“We’re not going to tell you anything,” Will spoke up heatedly.

“I think you will tell me everything,” Gisborne smiled darkly before kneeling down in front of them and withdrew something from the folds of his clothing.  Holding his hand out in between their faces on the leafy-dirt covered ground, Allan felt a pit of dread form in him as he recognized the object.  Across from his gaze he also saw Will’s eyes widen in shock, having carved a similar object just about three months ago.

“That’s not what I think it is, is it?” Allan whispered, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.  He had seen one of those things in use having seen it when he and Robin’s assassin friend had rescued Robin out of the Sheriff’s dungeons around the same time.

“You’ll tell me everything I need to know-“

“Or what-“

“There is no ‘or what’ in this case,” Gisborne’s voice was dark, darker than Allan had ever heard it and he started a bit as the pebble-sized object began to glow in his hand.  His gaze shot up to see Gisborne’s eyes turn completely white before Allan found his vision blinded in a white light-

_“Tell me what you were doing here,” the voice was distorted, but sounded oddly like Robin’s._

_“You should know,” he couldn’t help but reply, “you told us we needed materials from the last of the money we got yesterday to finish it.”_

_“Tell me!” Robin’s voice sounded oddly distorted, angry.  But why would the leader of the gang sound angry?  Had he betrayed him again?_

**_“I’m sorry Robin, forgive me,” he could hear his own voice crack before charging to attack, sword in hand._ **

_“No, wait…that’s,” Allan shook his head, that had already happened, Robin had forgiven him so…_

_“Look, you told us that we needed extra supplies for winter quarters so here we are, building them,” he quickly replied, hearing another odd distortion, almost like someone saying the same words as he was, but it was slightly different in terms of tone and wording.  Was that Will also talking?  But what was Will doing here at the tournament…he should have been keeping an eye on the bags of money hanging…oh God…_

_“Anna,” Allan found his own voice cracking as he remembered Anna, the fire, burning, even the smell…_

_“Where is Marian?” Robin’s distorted voice became insistent and he shook his head, the smell of burning wood, cloths, getting stronger._

_“I…don’ t know,” Allan replied brokenly, seeing flickering images of Anna, standing in an inferno, her hand stretched out, begging him to save her.  But he couldn’t…he had been held back…_

_“Please…spare her, spare…” Allan felt his breath hitch, the salty tears pouring down his face as he, “I’ll tell you anything!  Just…save her, Robin?  Anyone?  Little John?  Djaq?  Much?  Will?  Marian, please, save her, go as the Nightwatchman!  Save her!”_

_He could see it now, the smell of burning flesh, trees over head, embers flying into his face, scalding him…  But there was hope…he thought he saw a cloaked figure scale up the burning building…  “Yes, Marian, please, save her.  She doesn’t deserve this…”_

_“Where is she?!” the distorted voice roared-_

Allan was suddenly flung from the ghastly vision that had filled him, the bright lights suddenly dissolving into an all too real and surreal scene of burning trees surrounding him-

With a start, he shot up; shocked to find that he wasn’t pinned to the ground anymore just as a pair of hands hauled him up and out of the corner of his jumbled vision he could see others hauling Will up before he was dragged away.  He panicked and fought the grips on his clothes before the familiar voice of Little John spoke into his ear.

“We’ve got you lads, we’ve got you,” the big man said as he coughed and choked against the acrid smoke from the burning trees.  He managed to find his legs and stumbled slightly as he was half-carried out of the conflagration.  It was a few minutes later that he could feel the cool breeze of the late fall air hit his face and drew in a deep lungful of clean air, his arms holding his ribs as he coughed and tried to expel all of the dirty air that he had breathed in.

He blinked his eyes, letting them adjust to his new surroundings and craned his neck up to see Little John, Forrest, and several other well-armed and gruff looking men standing around him.  When he had been placed back on the ground was beyond him, but looking at the others, the early afternoon sunlight still filtering in between the branches and leaves made him squint a bit.

Beside him, he heard Will cough roughly accepting a skin of water and drinking from it before passing it to him.  Allan gulped down the water gratefully handing the bag back to one of Forrest’s men.  “What’s going on here?  Last thing I remembered…”

“Gisborne decided to burn our winter quarters down and leave the two of you in it,” Little John crossed his arms across his chest, frowning.

“Yeah, managed to save your bacon,” Forrest joined him his tone smug and Allan immediately remembered the reason why he did not like the little man.  He was glad that Forrest had decided to leave the gang after finding out Little John and Roy wanted to stay; he had thought him too smug for his own good.

“Thanks,” Will’s voice still sounded a bit hoarse, “how did you know?”

“Forrest says he knows some possible locations where Marian and her father were taken,” Little John shrugged, “we were coming to help you finish the winter quarters when we found Gisborne using that…thing, on the two of you, the rest of his men burning the trees down.”

“Drove ‘em off, managed to kill a few though,” Forrest added in a crooked smile on his face.

Allan wanted to smile at the little man’s statement, but inwardly, he found himself dreading Robin’s reaction when they caught up with him.  If that voice was truly Gisborne’s, insisting that he tell them where Marian was, instead of what his mind had thought was Robin’s, then…he had betrayed the worst possible secret to Gisborne about Marian.

Robin needed to know…but, would he forgive him a second time?  He remembered their leader’s words after he had been accepted back into the gang.  If he betrayed Robin again, then his own life would be forfeit.  Allan was sure that telling Gisborne Marian’s secret identity as the Nightwatchman counted as part of that betrayal.  However, he could claim that he was under the damned Piece of Eden’s influence and perhaps Robin would focus on the fact that Gisborne had a Piece of Eden and knew how to use that cursed object.  He hoped that it would be a bigger worry to Robin than the fact that Gisborne knew about the Nightwatchman’s identity.

“Hey,” Will’s hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his dark thoughts and he looked up to see his best friend standing, hefting one of his axes that was saved from the fire.

“Oh, we’re leaving?” Allan scrambled up; his hands reaching for his sword when he realized it had been left in the fire.  He glanced back towards the direction of the smoke pouring out of the trees in the distance, but knew that there was no way he could retrieve his sword from there.

“Here, take this,” Forrest’s voice made him turn around to see the little man holding another sword, a sturdy looking one to his surprise, out to him and Allan took it, shocked that he had even given him a weapon.  It was after all, Forrest who was the one to tie him up to the tree the first time they had met.

“We go, now,” Little John led the way as they ran towards Knighton.

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

Robin peered out from the cover of the stables behind the remnants of Marian’s former house, Much and Djaq with him as they watched the Sheriff talk to the villagers, surrounded by Prince John’s guards and his own guards.  He was surprised not to see Gisborne with the two of them, the man constantly lurking behind like a dog to its master.  He wanted to know what the Sheriff was saying to the villagers, but to get any closer to him would risk exposing themselves to the Prince’s men who were far more accurate and better trained than the Sheriff’s own men.

The Prince would not hesitate to kill him and his men where they stood instead of capturing them like the Sheriff would, he had no doubt about that.  Still, it seemed that some of the villagers made no mention of them or where they were hiding and instead one was gesticulating vividly with his hands.  Robin had a feeling that the man was describing the attack by the raiders.

He saw the Sheriff bobble his head up and down, moving back slightly to get away from the wild flailing gestures the man was making before turning to one of the women whom Djaq had been treating and peer down at her wounds.  The quick sucking sound of Djaq’s breath made him turn back to see her eyes wide with fear and he shook his head, trying to calm her down.

Still, as he turned back around to see the woman look away, trying to form an excuse, it would be best if they prepared to run.  “Much,” he whispered, gesturing to his former manservant to quietly open the back gate to the stable they were hiding in.

Suddenly to his surprise, he saw George step up, diverting the Sheriff’s attention to him before holding up a bag of medicinal supplies that the villagers had found for Djaq to use.  Robin breathed a quiet sigh of relief as did Djaq as they saw the Sheriff examine the bag before talking with his man.  He also noticed the rest of the villagers staring at George with an expression akin to awe and shock.  He realized that the villagers of Knighton did know that George, and even the other two, Matthew and Terence were the Sheriff’s own personal spies, having been given money to spy on the others in the village.

George’s sudden defense of one of the women came as a shock to them and Robin hoped that it would be the first step in a long road for the three men and their families to be reaccepted back into their community.

“Master,” Much’s hushed voice made him turn around to see Little John half-crouched on the ground, gesturing for him to follow.

Robin glanced back at the village before looking towards John again before he saw at the edges of the forest Forrest and his men along with the pale soot covered forms of Allan and Will.  What had happened to the two of them, he wondered, but the fact that Little John had found Forrest was a sign that things were looking up.

“Let’s go,” he whispered before the four of them half-crawled out of the stables and quietly slipped into the woods.

He took one glance back at the direction Knighton village was in and sent a silent apology to the men, women, and children in the village.  He wanted to help them, but saving Marian, that was the priority.

As one the two groups of outlaws ran deeper into Sherwood before finally stopping.

“What happened to you?” Much asked an incredulous look on his face as he stared at both Allan and Will.

Robin, however, narrowed his eyes as he saw that the two had sweaty and pale faces.  He also sniffed the air a bit and thought he smelled a slightly acrid scent of smoke on the two of them.  “Allan?  Will?”

“They destroyed it, Robin,” Will looked pained, absently grasping onto Djaq’s hand as she stood next to him, “destroyed the winter camp completely.”

“Who?” he demanded, a flare of anger filling him.

“Gisborne and his men,” Will’s face was a myriad of emotion, some anger, some pained, but most of all, disappointment, “I should have been more careful.  I should have-“

“What’s done is done,” Djaq interrupted him, “you cannot blame yourself.”

“Yes I can!” the young carpenter shouted, startling everyone, “he burned it down and there was nothing I could have done about it!”

“Listen mate, there’s nothing we could have done!  He had us tortured!  Staring into that thing!  That-that Piece!” Allan growled out, bringing Robin’s gaze to the resident thief.

“What did you say?” Robin asked, his voice quiet, but he felt uneasy.

Allan bit his lip, staring up at the thinning trees before shaking his head wordlessly and looking back down at him.  “Gisborne’s got a Piece of Eden and he knows how to use it…”

Silence reigned amongst the two groups, save for the occasional chirp of birds and the braying of woodland animals.  The unease that Robin felt turned to dread as he realized that the Piece of Eden that belonged to Hadiya, to whom his assassin friend Altaїr had spoken of, was truly in the Sheriff’s hands.  Except he would have thought the man stupid enough not to know its full value and its use.  He was wrong…Gisborne now knew how to use it and he had tortured two of his men and burned their winter quarters down while doing so.

“Uh, what’s this Piece of whatever?” Forrest spoke up and Robin glared at the smaller man.

“Nothing to concern yourself about,” he said in a rough tone.

“Listen, if it’s something to do with the Sheriff, we ought to-“

“It is something my men and I will deal with.  It is none of your concern,” he did not want to involve anymore people in this new development.  It was already bad enough that Prince John was here, Marian kidnapped, and now Gisborne using a Piece of Eden to possibly control the minds of others.  That was why he was not with the Sheriff and the Prince as they rode to Knighton, he had been sent to find them, search out the outlaws.  He must have used the Piece on the merchant where Will had been buying materials and forced the man to reveal where Will had gone with his materials.

“Fine,” Forrest’s flat tone made him sigh and he looked at the smaller man apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” they needed allies and being curt with one of the few who had a chance of finding Marian and her father was not his way.

“No, no, I get it,” the mild tone Forrest adopted reminded Robin strongly of one of the reasons he had left the gang early and formed his own.

A few days before Joe Lacey went on his killing spree, he and Forrest had clashed on Robin’s policy of not killing anyone, including the Sheriff’s men.  When Forrest had appealed to Little John, his former leader, the big man had sided with Robin, and in a fit of anger, he had left, unable to stand the fact that both Little John and Roy were willing to stay with the gang and obey his orders.

Days after Roy’s death, Forrest had returned with a gang of his own and had been shocked by the news of his former comrade’s death.  The two gangs of outlaws had almost come to blows if not for Little John hoping to hash out a peace treaty of sorts between him and Forrest.  It was decided afterwards that Sherwood belonged to Robin and his band of outlaws, Forrest would be able to do whatever he wanted outside of that boundary.

Over the past few months Robin knew that Little John occasionally visited Forrest and the men he used to command, but did not question John’s loyalties.  He also knew that Forrest provided the needed escort to those that they had sent away from Nottinghamshire, like Alice Little, Luke the Cooper, and Little Little John, and for that he was grateful.  Robin knew that Forrest would never hurt any of those they called families or allies, but the man was still ruthless in his own right; something that did not agree with Robin.  The uneasy alliance between the two was never tested and the two gangs had never met again until now.

“Robin,” Little John’s tone was both full of pain and warning.

“Not his fault, John,” Forrest shrugged nonchalantly, “Sherwood boundaries.”

“Not this again,” Allan shook his head.

“Fine then,” Robin shot a look at the pale soot covered man who held up his hands in a gesture of ‘who me’ before looking at Forrest, “do you have any information as to Lady Marian and Sir Edward Fitzwalter’s whereabouts?”

“Heard about the raiders attacking Knighton Hall,” the smaller man immediately snapped to a more business-like tone.  “I may have a few leads.  Me men and I’ve been following a few of the more aggressive gangs out there since you’ve gone and anger the Sheriff by tying him up from his sandals.  Good one, if I may add.”

“And?” he prompted Forrest to continue.

“There’s a gang that usually burns down villages when they decide to raid them.  However, they don’t usually take hostages, so this one is new.  However, there is another one that does take nobles as hostages.  Caught a few outside Birmingham and had them ransomed.  These are the two that seem to fit the lot that torched Knighton.  However, there are possibly three camps that I know of.  Two for the noble-hostage-taking ones, one for the burners.”  Forrest drew out a map of Nottinghamshire and the roads that crisscrossed in between, pointing at the locations of the camps.

“What’s the catch?” Much crossed his arms across his chest.

“Since we don’t have horses, they’ll be a few days away from each other from here,” Forrest shrugged, “we could get some horses-“

“No, too risky,” Robin knew that any horse they stole would immediately make the Sheriff send his men after them even if the horses’ shoes weren’t marked.  There was the probability of more patrols out on the roads within Sherwood with the Prince’s troops here and being on a horse was a liability in that sense.

“But Master, in a few days…the Duke-“

“I know Much,” he cut Much off with a swipe of his hand.  He did not want to think about the implications of the Duke of Austria’s arrival.  Perhaps by the Grace of God, there would be an unforeseen delay of sorts in the Duke’s arrival.  His priority and his heart were set on finding Marian, to make sure she was safe.  Everything came second to that…

“All right,” he rubbed his hands together, “here’s what we’ll do.  Split into groups, Forrest, you and your men take the camp with the burners.  We’ll take the other camp where they take nobles hostage.”

“What about the third camp?” Djaq asked.

“If neither of us finds Marian or her father at the camps, make haste to the third camp.  We’ll meet there,” he accepted the map from Forrest, “thank you.”

“Robin,” Forrest held onto the edges of the map, looking at him with serious eyes, “you better not get in our way.  We will do whatever’s necessary on my terms.”

Robin nodded once before allowing the corner of his lips to twitch up in a predatory smile.  “I’ll do what I need to do to make sure Marian is safe.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            While the mythology of the fabled Hashashin isn’t exactly proven by fact and by history, there are accounts that spoke of a split between the main faction of the Hashshashin located in Persian lands and a splinter group that eventually settled at the fortress in Masyaf.  It is in the game _Assassin’s Creed_ that you follow the Masyaf sect’s fictional accounts.  As an Englishman and what the people of the land called his kind, Crusaders, Gisborne would have little to no knowledge of that schism and would have thought that the main body of the Hashashin existed in Masyaf.  So technically Hadiya’s group is a splinter of a splinter faction if you want to look at it in that sense.

            There are allusions and mentions also of another Robin Hood fic that I was going to write, but decided not to in pursuit of this series, called Witch Hazel.  I had decided to give readers a chance to figure out what would have happened in that story – which is supposed to a lighthearted look, yet a bit twisted at the same time.

            The last mention I want to make in this author’s notes is the character of Forrest.  According to IMDB, Forrest is the man who appeared in the first two episodes of the TV series, more prominently in the 2nd episode.  He’s the one who the outlaws thought had a good-looking wife near the end of the 2nd episode.  I made up his excuse not being with the rest of the gang from episode 3 and on because I was puzzled why he wasn’t shown anymore in the TV series.


	3. Return to the Beginning - Part 3: Artifice

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Beginning

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.

 

**Religious Disclaimer:**

            As an author, I am by no means insulting or insinuating anything of the religions, Muslim or Christianity, presented in this trilogy, especially in this chapter.  I am only presenting the views of the characters through what was expressed/implied in the TV show.

**Story:**

_Part 3 – Artifice_

 

**RAIDERS’ CAMP, OUTSIDE** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

The hill was a strategic point; Robin had to admit as he shouldered his bow and strung an arrow, making sure that he was well blended into fall foliage that littered the ground on a small plateau that was opposite the hill.  The raider camp was just beyond the hill and with two raiders standing on top of that hill; it seemed that he and his gang had found the right camp.  A quick scout report by Will indicated that there were at least eight raiders lounging in the camp, but he was not able to discern whether or not Marian was being held there.

The rest of the gang was spread out near the hill, all of them blended beautifully into the foliage as they waited for Robin to down the scouts.  He took a quiet breath and sighted down the bow.  A calm sense filled him, much like each time he used his bow, but this time, he could feel something different about that calm. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but nonetheless, drew strength from it.  Pulling the string taunt, he let the first arrow go and even before it hit its target, had already strung another arrow and moved his bow slightly to his right before letting that arrow go.

The two men on the hill suddenly jerked as they were hit by the near simultaneous arrows, clutching their wounds before crumpling forward and tumbling down the hill in an almost noiseless clatter.

Grimly smiling, Robin immediately saw the rest of the gang burst out of their hiding spots and ran to join them, leaping over fallen logs and scrambling up on the rocks.  His hands drew another arrow, but he kept it on the string as he ran past the dead raiders.  There would be no mercy for the raiders, he was shooting to kill for what they had done to Marian and if they harmed one hair on her head...

The rest of the gang burst down the hill, yelling as they drew their weapons and charged into the unsuspecting camp and the screams of the dying filled the air.  Robin stayed at the top of the hill, shooting two of his arrows before hurrying down the hill.  He caught a raider who was running away from Djaq's sword and jabbed him sharply in the stomach with his bow, folding him in half.  Bringing his bow about, he whipped it across the man's face, knocking him to the leaf-covered ground and before he could draw his sword to fend off his surprise attack, strung an arrow and shot it into the man's skull at point blank range.  The splash of blood from the arrow's entry point jumped onto his face, but Robin ignored it as he shouldered his bow and drew out his curved Saracen sword.

“Marian!” he shouted, looking around him as he saw the rest of his men killing the raiders, some whom had tried to mount a defensive stance, but they were taken down quickly.  “Marian!”

As he looked wildly around, he strained his ears, trying to hear for any muffled cries from her.  His shouts were rewarded with the barely audible sounds of a high-pitched muffled grunt in a tent next to him.  Lifting the flap open, he took one step in before freezing in place, eyes narrowing as anger filled him.  The lone survivor of the camp they had ambushed, probably the leader of the group, was holding Marian close to him, his arm around her, a knife held under her chin.

“Drop your sword!” the man demanded.

Just then the rest of the gang burst into the tent, weapons held aloft.  Robin shot a hand out to prevent Much from recklessly charging the man before shooting quick looks at the others and dropped his sword to the ground.

“All ya, drop your weapons!” the man laughed hysterically, a glint of victory in his eyes.

“Robin-”

“Do as he says,” he said evenly, keeping his gaze upon the crazed raider.  He tried to ignore Marian's muffled cries of help, but it was hard.  He needed to focus on the raider if his plan was going to work.  “It'll be all right Marian,” he tried to reassure her, even though her hands were bound together and a gag was placed over her mouth.

“Fat chance, Hood,” the raider sneered, his voice jumping pitches, “I know how you operate, you don't kill.  Now you're just going to let me walk out of here with the girl-”

“Oy, she's a lady, not a girl!” Allan cut in.

“I don't give a damn!” the man shouted, waving his knife wildly before holding it back under Marian's neck, and faced him once more, “you're going to let us get out of here safe and sound.  You come after us – drop your bow right now!”

Robin had been slowly unshouldering his bow and paused mid-movement before holding his hands out and took his recurved bow off of his shoulders.

“Put it on the ground, slowly.  I know how you operate Hood,” the raider shook Marian slightly; “don't think I won't slit her pretty little throat.”

Robin slowly knelt down, one hand on his bow, the other reaching behind him, but not to draw an arrow from his pack, but rather towards his boot.  He made sure that his body was covering the small movement he was making with his right hand and that the raider's eyes was focused on his bow before placing it gently on the ground near his sword.  The raider nodded, satisfied with his actions and before he could open his mouth once more, Robin acted.

The dagger nestled in his right boot, near a small pebble-sized lump, flew through the air with the barest of whispers, so blindingly fast, before embedding itself into the raider's throat.  Immediately the raider choked and gurgled, dropping the knife he had held to Marian’s throat as she pushed herself away and he fell to the ground, clutching at the free flowing blood pouring out of his fatal wound.

Robin watched with dispassionate eyes as the man’s frantic movements slowly halted before the deathly rattle of his last breath filled the tent and the raider fell still.  Without another word, he crossed over to where the dead raider was and pulled out the dagger, quickly cleaning it against the dead man’s clothing and sheathing it once more in his boot.  It was only then that he allowed himself to feel the guilt that had been building within him since he had fired those first shots killing the sentries.

He closed his eyes briefly, drawing several deep breaths before opening them once more and turned to face Marian who was in the process of having her bonds cut by Little John.  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly as he saw her violently shake the remaining ropes off, staring at them as if it was a poisonous serpent before looking at him.  Tears were brimming in the corner of her eyes and she shook her head before a choked sob escaped her lips.

He was immediately next to her, taking the two steps over and embraced tightly as she buried her head into his shoulder, her sobs becoming more frequent, though muffled.  He absently stroked her hair, wanting to whisper that it was going to be all right, but knew that the platitudes were nothing but just that.  Looking up, he caught the others’ eyes and they headed out of the tent, understanding that she wanted to be alone with him in her grief.

“Find Edward, bury the bodies,” he murmured quietly to Much was staring at them forlornly, the last one to leave, and saw him nod once before exiting the tent.  He had broken their code of no killing, but he had made sure that it was he himself that had started the slaughter, hopefully freeing the conscience of the others from committing such acts.

It would take a while for the outlaws to recover their wits, he knew that for certain, but right now, the most important thing was that Marian was safe.  He felt her shift in his arms and released his hold just slightly as she turned her head to let her cheek pillow against his shoulder.  The part of his shirt that she had been crying into was stained wet and he could feel it cool against his skin, but he did not mind.  He turned to look at her, only seeing a profile of her face, half of his vision obscured by her undone hair.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“W-What for,” she took a shuddering breath, her words hiccupping together as she reached out with a hand that was looped around his shoulder and brushed an errant tear away.

“That we did not come sooner,” he replied, “that you had to see the man holding you die; that I should have saw this coming.”  He paused for a second, “For everything…leaving you, not staying here, in Nottingham…not being there for you when you needed me the most…”

“Everything,” she whispered, cutting him off and he nodded.

“Yes.”

They stood in silence, still embracing one another, until Marian shifted again and this time, he let her step back out of his arms, so that they were now facing one another.  “Thank you,” she looked up at him, her eyes still red-rimmed from crying, but there were no tears in her eyes anymore, “for everything.”

“Not everything yet,” Robin knew that it was the most highly inappropriate place to ask such a question, but he did not want to find her only to lose her once more.  Though it was impulsive, and he did not even have the proper blessing from Edward, he wanted to make sure that ‘everything’ did not turn into ‘nothing’, especially with the King set on returning soon.

She looked up at him, puzzlement in her eyes before he took a deep breath and grasped her hands into his own.  “Marian, there are rumors abound that the King is finally returning from the Crusades and Prince John is in Nottingham.”

She laughed, a slightly bitter laugh, “That still could mean it’s a trap for you.”

“I know, just,” he released one of her hands and held it up, stopping her from saying anything else, “just let me finish, please.”

“All right,” she nodded and he grasped her hand again, feeling the softness of her fingers, but also the rough calluses on her palms from wielding a sword.  A rueful smile worked its way up his lips as he stared down at her hands, entwined with his own.

“This…is a lot harder than I thought it would be,” he commented mostly to himself before looking up at her to see a slightly incredulous, but dubious smile on her face.  “Marian, what I’m trying to say is that…I don’t want to lose you again.  I…”  The words on his lips faltered as he glanced around the tent, pointedly ignoring the dead body of the raider that was still in there.  This was definitely a very inappropriate place, especially with the body in there.

Shaking his head he was about to speak when Much burst into the tent, a harried expression on his face.  “Robin!  Raiders!”

Robin was instantly on alert, releasing Marian’s hands and scrambling for his sword and bow.  He would have to ask her the question later he decided as he pushed past Much and out of the tent.  Immediately he rolled forward, ducking under several arrows that landed on the ground where he was standing.  “Stay back!” he shouted, seeing Much’s feet appear near the entrance.  Those feet immediately retreated just slightly and he drew several arrows.

Holding the ones in reserve in between his fingers he quickly drew on the first one and sighted down his bow, targeting the first archer that had taken shots at him.  Launching the arrow, he immediately moved his bow firing off the three other arrows that he had.  Four bodies tumbled into the camp before he ducked and ran towards a half turned cart where Will was holed up, wincing as several arrows embedded into the other side of the cart.

He slid into the cover just as several other arrows embedded themselves near his feet.  “Where are the others?” he asked.

Little John’s angry roar to his left made him see the big burly man already on top of the ridge, charging with wild abandon into several of the archers, knocking them over as he pummeled them with his giant staff.

He heard the panicked shouts of the raiders that had tried to ambush them as they sought to concentrate their fire upon Little John.  “Shoot them down!” he shouted, drawing on his bow once more and fired several more arrows, felling the rest of the archers as Will, Allan, and Djaq, the latter two hiding behind a tent peered out of their cover and shot along with him.

“Charge them!  Charge them!” the shout of the leader of this band shouted, hanging in the back away from Little John’s rampage and Robin peered out from his cover to see the raiders abandoning their bows and run down towards them, swords, maces, axes, any weapon they had, yelling incoherently.

Robin drew his own sword once more and leapt out of cover, a war cry on his lips.  He met the first blade with a downward smash, breaking the man’s guard immediately.  Swiftly kicking him in the head, the man tumbled away, knocked out cold as the next raider replaced him just as quickly.  Robin ducked as the man swung his mace and reached out, throwing dirt into the man’s eyes.  He followed with two handed swipe that sliced through the raider’s shoulder and dragged him a few steps before throwing him to the ground, the slick blood on his blade releasing the man.

Pain suddenly shot up the side of his leg as he felt his knee give way and gritted his teeth, bringing the curved Saracen sword around in a parry.  It was a shallow cut in the back of his thigh, he could feel that, but it hurt nonetheless.  The raider that had attacked him pushed against his shallow block and broke it, a triumphant grin on his face.  But Robin was quicker and rolled to his feet, ignoring the fiery wound, before slicing the man’s sword-arm off.

The man screamed and fell back, clutching at his severed arm, rolling on the ground in agony.  Robin raised his sword up to deliver the killing blow before the well of disgust fill him and instead, swiftly kicked the man in the head, silencing him.

“Will!” Djaq’s frantic call made him turn in time to see the other outlaws finishing the rest of the band that had tried to ambush them, but Djaq was running over from the other side of the camp to where Will was engaged in a fierce fight with the leader of this band of raiders.

“Will!” Little John hurried down from the ridge and Robin saw both Allan and Much, Marian emerging from the tent behind Much, their bows drawn, trying to find a point to shoot at the leader, but the way the two were trading blows, it was hard to find a point to release the arrow without it having to possibly hit Will.

Just as suddenly, Will managed to get the curve of one of his short axes around one of the blades of the two short swords the leader of the raiders was holding and flick both of their weapons away.  He then moved just as fast and slammed his right elbow into the man’s face, smashing him across the temple stunning him.  With his left hand, he disarmed the other man’s blade before holding his lone axe to the man’s neck, victory evident in his eyes.

“Yield,” Will’s quiet but deadly whisper was the only sound in the near silent camp, save for the harsh breaths of the leader that he had just so expertly disarmed.

“I-I…surrender,” the leader held up his hands, trying to ward away Will’s axe while pleading with him.

“Little John, Allan, check the perimeter, make sure we don’t have any extra company,” Robin breathed a quiet sigh of relief, cleaning his sword as best as he could before sheathing it and walked over to Will who had taken a step back, but was still watching the raider leader warily.

He patted the young man on the shoulder before gesturing for him to stand down and Will did so without a second glance, walking away to find his missing axe.  Djaq joined him, her expression filled with relief and worry, but Robin paid them no attention and turned his gaze upon the raider who was still kneeling on the ground.  This close to him, he could see that Will had wounded the man with small nicks and cuts from their fierce and furious battle.

He hadn’t realized how good the young carpenter had gotten fighting with his axes.    And the sobering thought that Will was probably a much better man than he was to even ask for the surrender of the raider leader instead of just killing him outright like he did.  Will was definitely a better man than he…

He knelt down in front of the leader, catching his fearful gaze, “Who sent you?”

“N-No one,” the leader’s lip trembled in fear and Robin laughed bitterly.

“You’re lying,” he made a move to draw out his dagger before the man shook his head wildly.

“I swear!  We saw you ambush my friends!  We needed to-“

“I have it on good word that your particular band kidnaps nobles from around here,” he gestured with his fingers to the trees around them, “why come all the way to Sherwood?  Why to Knighton?”

His words seemed to have an effect on the raider leader, but instead of putting more fear in him, the leader’s lips curled into a wolfish smile, “You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you Robin Hood?”

“You know who I am?” he asked, his tone mild.

“Robin Hood, the infamous outlaw of Sherwood Forest,” the raider sneered, “we have you to thank for keeping the Sheriff and Prince John’s attentions away from our dealings.”

Robin immediately punched the man in the face, inwardly wincing as his knuckles connected with the jaw bone, but he didn’t care.  He then pulled the man towards him, half-choking him as he hauled him up by the front of his leather armor.  “When the King returns, I’ll make sure that men like you are punished, severely.  You think you could get away with killing and holding nobles for ransom?  You, are no better than those arrogant Crusaders in the Holy Lands!”

He suddenly shoved the man away, making him stumble and fall to the ground again.  “Tie him up,” he called to Will who was standing nearby, Djaq next to him, “make sure there’s a shovel nearby.  He can bury his own dead.  We’ll finish with the ones we had killed.”

“Robin, some of the others are still alive and Sir Edward’s not here,” Djaq murmured quietly and he sighed, glancing at Marian who wore an unreadable expression on her face.

“Do what you can for them, Djaq,” he said, knowing that if Edward was not here, that meant either he was at the burner’s camp or the other raider camp.  “We’ll leave as soon as the bodies are buried.”

He turned to join Allan and Little John on the ridge when Much’s voice stopped him.

“Master, what if…what if he escapes?” his former manservant asked and Robin glanced to where he was pointing to the raider leader who was currently being secured by Will around a tent pole.

“If he does,” he made sure that the raider leader could hear him loud and clear, “then maybe he’ll learn the ways of his error.  If not, then he’ll probably meet God sooner than he expected.”

The only reply he got back was a baleful glare directed at him by the raider before he turned and headed up to the ridge to relay his orders to Allan and Little John.  His only consolation was that Marian was at least safe.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTSKIRTS OF** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Night had fallen as the outlaws made a temporary camp near the outskirts of Sherwood Forest.  They had left the raider camp several hours ago, after burying the initial dead and leaving the raider and his surviving comrades to fend for themselves and bury their own dead.  He had a feeling that his words had gotten through to the man and did not expect any retaliation of sorts, but nonetheless, had made sure that every three hours; someone was awake, keeping an eye out.

It was also for his own benefit as he himself could not sleep, not after the slaughter of the raiders within the camp and the subsequent ones that had ambushed them.  He sat in front of the fire, staring into its dancing flames, his vision marred only by the curvature of the Saracen blade that was plunged into the ground before him.  The blood had been long cleaned off, the first thing he had done as soon as they had set up camp for the night.  He had also cleaned his dagger before sheathing it in his boot.  But the blade was left out, a constant reminder to himself of the deeds he had committed in the Holy Land, especially the ones that had gotten him this particular blade.

It now served to remind him of his penance, his vow to never kill another man unless it was absolutely necessary.  He had violated that oath twice already, before today.  Once was when he had thought Marian dead from the stab wound Gisborne had given her, the second time…  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  The second time was because of that cursed object that Altaїr, his assassin friend, had given to him before he had departed the Holy Lands.

Altaїr had placed his implicit trust in making sure that it would be away from the temptations and prying eyes of the Templars, to whom his Hashashin were fighting, and he had betrayed that trust.  In his fight against Hadiya’s assassins over three months ago, he had used the partial Piece of Eden that was within his possession and ruthlessly slaughtered his attackers.  He had also nearly killed his friends, hurt Marian, and even hurt Altaїr before he was stopped.

But even without the Piece of Eden’s influence, it was still the blade he wielded that was bathed in blood.  It knew defense, but in reality, Robin knew that such a blade was a highly offensive weapon.  It was designed to cut into the flesh of others, easily slicing through sinew and bone with its wicked curvature.  Crusader longswords were built to stab, not for slicing.

“I accept you, for all that you are,” Marian’s soft voice startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced down to his left to see her reaching out with a hand from underneath her covers.

He smiled sadly as he reached over and grasped her hand.  “You should sleep,” he whispered above the crackling of the fire.

“So should you,” she replied, “you’ve already stayed up past the three hour mark.”

“Sleep is elusive,” he admitted, “too many thoughts.”

“Robin, I forgive you,” she squeezed his hand in reassurance and he nodded, but still did not feel comforted.  The problem was, was that he could not forgive himself, not for each life that he had taken since his journey back from the Holy Land.  He had tried to justify it saying that it was because Marian was in danger, but the miracle of it all was that she accepted him, even knowing the blood that he had shed.  He was a very lucky man to have her by his side.

“I know,” she started quietly, “that it will be hard for you to forgive yourself, but do you think in time, we’ll be able to face those demons, together?”

It took a moment for Robin to realize what she was saying and blinked at her, surprised.  Was it not the man who was supposed to propose to the woman, not the other way around?  However, he had to crack a rueful smile at her, his despondent mood finally broken.  “I thought it was supposed to be the man to ask the woman.”

“I am not your typical woman,” she laughed quietly and he pursed his lips in agreement.

“That you are not,” he replied before tugging on her hand and she obliged by crawling out of her bed roll, shivering slightly at the sudden chill.  Together, they sat next to the fire, hands held together.  “I want to do this properly,” he said, staring into her blue eyes, “we’ll find your father and I will ask him for his permission.”

“Making an honest woman out of me?”

“Of course,” how could he have ever left her was beyond him now.  He really should have done this even before he left for the Holy Lands; except he had been too stupid, too hot-headed to see through their last argument before he left the next day.  “But before anything else happens, Marian, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Robin of Locksley, I will,” Marian replied and in those simple words, Robin felt the well of happiness spring to life within him.  All of the regrets he had washed away as he leaned towards her and captured her mouth with his in a searing, but surprisingly gentle kiss.

“Finally,” the barely audible mutter from Allan broke their kiss and Robin turned towards the resident thief who had been sleeping on the opposite side of the fire to see him staring at them, shaking his head ruefully.

“Go back to sleep,” Marian laughed softly before Allan shrugged, sitting up from his bedroll and shivered, rubbing his arms up and down in an attempt to keep himself warm.

“Sorry, taking over watch,” Allan shrugged before placing his hands out towards the fire, “you kiddies get some sleep.”

Robin shook his head at Allan’s antics before scooting over to his own bedroll, which had been unfurled next to Marian’s earlier, and crawled inside it.  Marian also got into hers and to his mild surprise moved it just ever so closer to his own.  “Marian-“

“You’ll make an honest woman out of me, Robin of Locksley, but that does not mean that sharing at least some warmth, even in our separate bedrolls is not practical,” she pinned him with a mock glare before turn away from him and settling under the furs that they had brought.

Robin had to smile at her feistiness before turning to the other side so that his back was against hers and stared towards his blade, still embedded in the ground before the fire.  He had killed several men today, but Marian had forgiven him and her acceptance of marriage to him made it a lot easier for him to forgive himself.  The curved Saracen blade would always serve as a reminder of what his past was, but it was Marian who would be its sheath, his future.

                                    *                      *                      *

They were making good progress towards the other raider camp and Robin hoped that within two days, they would arrive there and with any luck meet Forrest and his men at the same camp.  If their luck held, Edward would have been at the burners’ camp, but otherwise, if he was with this camp they were going to, they would have more men to storm and rescue the old ex-Sheriff.  He did not allow himself the luxury of thinking of the two days that were in the opposite direction, going southward towards Nottingham.

They had cut through Sherwood to halve their time and it was also a two day journey to Nottingham town where by now, he was sure that Duke Leopold V of Austria had arrived and was scheming with Prince John and the Sheriff.  He had made his choice, a plot against the King or Marian and her father.  But that still did not mean he did not feel a slight guilt inside of him for thinking so selfishly.  He had sworn to give the King his life and upheld that promise even when he had returned to England, vowing to make sure that the country his King ruled was a fair and just one, not one corrupted by men such as Sheriff Vaysey or Prince John.

“Robin,” Allan’s voice broke through his thoughts as he turned slightly to see their resident thief joining up with him as they made their way down a particularly rock-filled hill, not steep, but just rocky.

“Allan?” the morning after Marian’s acceptance of his proposal, he had noticed Allan was acting quite peculiar, though he tried very hard not to show it.  He had wondered if it was nerves the man was suffering from, after all, they did kill a lot of raiders the day before.  However, after a day and half of traveling, Allan made no mention of what was bothering him and Robin was one not to pry too much into the con man’s life, not after the fiasco with Anna.

He trusted Allan to come and talk with him if there was a problem, hoping that the measure of trust he extended to him since he had accepted him back into the gang after Anna’s death would tell Allan that they were on good terms.  Perhaps now was the time when Allan was willing to talk.

Slowing his pace down just a bit so they have a bit more privacy, he saw a frown appear on Allan’s face as they continued down the hill, seemingly struggling with something.  Finally, it looked as if Allan had come to grips with what he needed to say.  “Listen, I remember what you said about me staying on with the gang and if anything I did to betray you, you’ll personally kill me, right?”

“Allan, you did not even try to shoot at me during the battle a couple of days ago did you?” he tried to lighten the man’s pensive mood with a smile, but it disappeared soon after as Allan shook his head rapidly, the frown still on his face.  “All right, what’s this about?”

“Marian,” it looked like it hurt to speak her name and Robin’s steps slowed as he grabbed onto a small sapling for more purchase.

“What about Marian?” ideas floated through his mind, but each one of them absurdly rejected.  Allan would never have started an affair with her, so that was out of the question.  Was it something else?  Did Gisborne propose to Marian before she had been kidnapped and he was the one to see it?  Was that why he was warning him now?

“I think…” the thief looked down towards the others who were still making their way, and Robin noticed in particular he was staring at Marian who was laughing at a joke Little John had said.  “Listen, mate, the Piece of Eden…it does things to your mind…makes you see things…”

The mention of the Piece immediately brought Robin’s attention to the forefront.  That could not be good and he remembered that Gisborne had tortured and used the partial Piece of Eden in his possession to extract information from Allan and Will.  The only information he knew regarding Marian that Allan might have spilled was that she had been secretly helping them and…

“I think I told Gisborne that Marian was the Nightwatchman,” the words tumbled out of Allan’s mouth in a jumble.

“Are you sure?” he asked, staring at their resident thief intently, but Allan did not shy away from his stare.

“I don’t remember much, just,” he bit his lip, “I saw Anna…in the fire, reaching out, asking me to save her.  Asked everyone to save her, even Marian in the Nightwatchman guise.”  He looked down towards the ground, his next words barely audible, “I saw her burn…again.”

Robin had thought he had known the extent of Allan’s feelings towards Anna, the man seemingly rebounding after two weeks of endless silence and no jokes cracked, but when confronted with his nightmares again through the Piece of Eden, it had shaken him to the core once more, ripping open a wound that had just healed.  The realization that Gisborne may now know of Marian’s work as the Nightwatchman was serious indeed and if anyone else had told him that, he would have been furious, seeing it as a betrayal of the trust that Marian had for them to keep her secret.

But this was Allan; the man who had swore allegiance to him after betraying him once; who had regained his self once more and whose loyalty he had never questioned since the incident with Anna five months ago.  As much as he was angry that Allan had let slip the knowledge to Gisborne, he knew that it was also inevitable.  Marian and her father would have to live with them in the forest or even in one of the local villages.  Perhaps Rowan’s family could take her in for the winter before he made preparations to send her and her father to Scarborough or somewhere outside of Nottinghamshire, away from all of the politics.

Marian would not be happy and neither would Edward.  Nobles did not give up their lands so easily and Knighton still belonged to Edward Fitzwalter.  But if there was the chance that Gisborne told the Sheriff what he knew, then it would be the hangman’s noose or worst for Marian and her father.  He could not allow that to happen.

“Robin?” Allan looked uneasily at him and he shook his head.

“I’m disappointed, but I understand,” he finally replied before clapping the man on the shoulder, “thank you.”

Clearly it was not the reaction Allan had been expecting as his eyes widened in shock and he wordlessly nodded.  Robin motioned for them to continue down the hill, the rest of the gang pausing as they stared up at the two of them, wondering why they had stopped.  As soon as they reached the rest of them he gestured for them to continue on, but sought out Marian, intent on telling her what he had just found out.  The others he would tell in due time, probably when they rescued Sir Edward, but right now, Marian needed to know the danger she was in if she returned to Nottingham.

“Marian, there is-“

The sudden trampling of bramble and leaves crunching underfoot stopped him mid-word as he drew and arrow and sighted down his bow towards the source of the sound.  It had come from another hill to their left.  The other outlaws had also gone on alert, hearing the jarring noise.  Just as suddenly a man appeared on top of the hill, waving his hands frantically.

“Don’t shoot!  It is I, Matthew of Knighton!”

“Matthew?” Robin lowered his bow and motioned to the others to do the same as the man ran down the hill, nearly tumbling into several rocks before regaining his footing and approached them, clearly exhausted.

“Isn’t he-“

“He’s reformed,” Robin said to Marian’s inquiry, “he lost his mother when the raiders burned Knighton to the ground.”

“Oh,” was all she said, and he could tell she was not convinced of his sincerity and sudden reformation to helping Robin after several years of being the Sheriff’s spy, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt at this point.

“Robin, you have to, the gang-“ Matthew gasped out, trying to catch his breath at the same time as he was trying to speak, “Nottingham-“

“Easy there, Matthew,” Robin patted the man on the shoulder as Will handed him a waterskin bag to which he drank from gratefully.

“Nottingham, the Sheriff,” the man shook his head, still trying to catch his breath, but was a lot better than when he had ran down to meet them, “I’m so glad I found you.  Didn’t know whether or not you’d be passing this way…”  He shook his head, “Figured I could spy a little for you, you know, help with the cause and everything.”

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks-“

“Damned Sheriff didn’t even help Knighton rebuild in the past few days.  Left us to our own devices.  Asked Gisborne to send some men, he just said we got what we deserve for harboring criminals,” Matthew spat out contemptuously.  Robin exchanged a silent glance with Allan who looked as pale as a sheet.

“Some Duke from Austria’s arrived; don’t know his name,” Matthew continued, taking another gulp of water and shook his head, “things got worst, Robin.  A lot worst.  They’re now saying that the King is dead and that you’ve abandoned us to our fate.  Sheriff’s got his town criers saying that Robin Hood was the one to burn Knighton and are now taking protective tax money from the other villages to prevent such a thing from happening again.”

“I really hate the Sheriff,” Will muttered angrily.

“What’s worst is that somehow, half of the villagers are accepting it!  Like they’ve known it all along!  It’s like they’ve been bewitched somehow!” Matthew looked frantic, his hands wringing the neck of the waterskin bag.  “You have to come back Robin, all of you!  Prove to them that you’re still our champion!”

When he had been recovering from his near fatal wound defending the King in the Hashashin fortress of Masyaf, he had learned a little more about the Piece of Eden from Altaїr and knew that the Pieces could put people under its thrall.  That was what Gisborne had probably been tasked to do after burning the outlaws’ winter quarters down, use it against the populace to turn them against Robin Hood.

It wasn’t the question of why he had not used it until now, but rather he knew well the reason why.  Prince John’s presence in Nottingham lit a metaphoric fire under the Sheriff to do what he had promised to do, capture Robin Hood and his band of outlaws.  He had to stop the Sheriff from even using the Piece and then send a hasty message to Masyaf, notifying Altaїr that Hadiya’s lost Piece had been found.

As much as Matthew’s plea resonated deep within him, he had already made his decision and bit his lip.  “I will return, in six days time-“

“That’s not good enough!” Matthew shouted his voice in near hysterics.  “A lot can happen in six days!”

“I know,” Robin replied, his voice firm, “but Sir Edward’s life is already precarious and he will be the guiding force that can overthrow the Sheriff once he is rescued!”

He had made his decision.  There was no going back, there could not be.  He had sacrificed the temporary freedom of the populace of Nottinghamshire to make sure Marian and her father were alive and safe.

“Robin,” Marian hand was soft against his shoulder, seemingly melting the frustrating tension that had been building within him and he turned to see her looking at him with half a smile on her face.  “Go to them.  We will continue to find my father.”

“But…”

“There are three things in this world that I’ve seen you care about more than your own life.  You’ve already saved one of them.  Now it’s time to save another.  We’ll join you as soon as my father is safe.  Until then, go, make your plans and reassure the people of the shire,” she looked at him with loving eyes and he found his decision a lot easier to make.

“I promise,” he squeezed her hand tightly, “that I won’t do anything rash until you return.”

“Really,” she laughed lightly, “such a promise from Robin Hood?”

“A promise from Robin of Locksley,” he had to crack a small smile at her sarcastic joke.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, my love,” she kissed him gently on the cheek before stepping away from him.

He could feel himself blush from the public display of affection, but took it as it was and turned to the rest of the gang, noting the smirks that they all wore.  “When you find Edward, make sure he is safe and hidden, you too Marian, before you join me in Nottingham.  I’ll be waiting on the sixth day at the local pub on Pine.”

“Robin, I won’t sit out-“

“Marian, Gisborne knows you’re the Nightwatchman,” he shook his head, stopping her protest mid-sentence.

“How?”

“Something I’ll tell you later, but the fact is, is that he knows.  And if he sees you, he’ll have the grounds to arrest you as an outlaw, your father too.  I want the two of you safe before anything else, all right?”

She looked as if she was going to protest his command, but instead, nodded accepting his authority.  “Be careful.”

“I will,” he replied and nodded to the rest of the gang.  He saw Much moving closer to Marian, unofficially taking his role as her protector and smiled slightly at his ever faithful former manservant and best friend.  He could trust Much to keep Marian safe.  Turning to Matthew, he looked at the man who hand handed the waterskin bag back to Will and looked considerably calmer.  “Let’s go.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Robin arrived back in Nottingham two days later and immediately made his way into the castle, Matthew providing him the necessary distraction to have him slip unnoticed by the castle guards.  To his dismay, he had noticed an increase in the garrison that had formed while he and the rest of his gang had been away from the shire and Sherwood.  Gone were some of the regular castle guards and in place was more of the Prince’s own men who were keeping an eye on things.

Instead, on his way in, cloaked and keeping a low profile, he had noticed some of the former castle guards had been reduced to begging for scraps like the others of Nottingham town.  But others were wandering around aimlessly, as if under a spell of sorts.  A few of the townsfolk had attempted to cajole them, but there was no effect.  Disturbing was the least of the words that Robin had managed to think up as he saw the aimless guards.  It was as if their very lives and souls had been replaced by something unnatural and sinister.

The odd thing was that he noticed no banners signifying Leopold’s arrival and wondered if the Duke of Austria had wanted to arrive much like Prince John had, secretly and without any pomp and circumstance.  That was why he had made for the castle as soon as he had arrived in the town.  He needed to know what the truths were to the rumors that Matthew had told him a couple of days ago.  Their journey had been nearly silent, save for the wringing of hands the man was prone to do, a nervous tic of sorts that he chalked up to frantically looking for him and the rest of his gang.  Matthew had told him that he had set out as soon as he had heard the news and spent his time searching Sherwood for the past few days.  It was only by luck, he said, that he had found them that day.

Voices from down the hall where he had been trying to reach the Great Hall where hopefully the Sheriff was, made him snap out of his thoughts and he pressed himself against the side of the door to the kitchens, having slipped in from there.  He strained his ears as the jangle of booted feet came closer and closer.  The feet were of an uneven pattern; not precision marching as he had thought guards on patrol would have and wrinkled his brow.

Perhaps a servant?  But the feet were too numerous to sound like a single servant running down the hall.  Just then the voices belonging to the feet got louder and louder as they approached his hiding spot and he could make out two voices, one which belonged to Prince John, another he did not recognize, but judging by the muffled sounds of deference, he could tell that the other voice was probably a servant or lower noble that had arrived with the extra guards the Prince had called for in the days that they weren’t in Nottinghamshire.

“-the preparations complete?” the Prince asked, his tone simple but commanding.

“Yes sire,” the noble replied, “I’ve already informed the Sheriff of what’s to happen and he says he will make his formal announcement within the next two days.”

“Make sure that the bonds will hold.  I want Edward executed swiftly, but quietly.  We don’t want a ruckus to occur in the populaces that aren’t affected,” the Prince said and Robin frowned.

He could not be talking about Marian’s father Edward, not that Edward…

“What about Lord Fitzwalter’s lands after he is dead?” the noble asked as their voices and footsteps faded away, moving down the Hall.  But Robin did not move from his position.

They _were_ talking about Marian’s father, he realized with dread.  And the way they were talking about him told him everything that he knew and more.  It had been a ploy to lure Robin and his men out of Sherwood and Nottinghamshire so the Prince could enact his plan to subjugate the rest of the populace under the Piece of Eden’s thrall.  That way, when the Duke of Austria signed the treaty splitting the lands and giving total royal support to Prince John as the new King of England, Nottinghamshire would be the first of many of the shires to obey him.

And if the populace, held under the Piece’s thrall, pledged their allegiance to Prince John, then it would kill whatever rebellion the other nobles, who had secretly supported the downfall of the Prince, planned.  The Sheriff and the Prince had figured out he would go after Marian no matter what so they had dangled that part of the inch of truth in front of him, probably hiring the raiders to attack and burn down Knighton Hall.  They had also not informed the three spies within the town so to make their reactions genuine.

They did not care that their spies would feel betrayed.  After all, they knew that they could win their minds over once more with the Piece under their control.  Such a clever plan…

Whatever they had planned for Edward, they did not count the fact that Matthew had double crossed them, turning to spy for him, and it was only just in the nick of time that he had returned to hopefully right the wrongs that was happening in his absence.  Judging by what the Prince and his lackey noble were saying, Edward was probably being held in the dungeons of the castle.  He had to rescue Marian’s father that was the first thing, especially since his execution was probably to happen within the next two days, maybe even tonight.  The Prince wanted it done quietly, so that Edward would not become a martyr and hardened the minds of the others, making them more resistance to the Piece’s command.

After making sure Edward was safe, Robin would then attend to the situation at hand and destroy the Piece of Eden, or at least make sure it was not in Gisborne’s possession anymore.  He needed to send a message to Altaїr by fastest courier and he needed his gang back in Nottingham.  One of those things, he could do right away.  Matthew knew the general direction that the rest of the gang was headed to and he could provide him with more specific directions.  His message to Altaїr would wait until Edward was safe, probably with Rowan in Treeton.

He slowly backed away from his hiding spot and made his way back out of the castle.  As soon as he was beyond the castle’s portcullis, he headed over to the tavern where hopefully Matthew would be waiting for him.  Pulling the hood of his cloak further down towards his face as he entered in, he found Matthew sitting with Terence and George, the other two former spies of the Sheriff mugs of ale in front of them.

Matthew spotted him and discreetly waved him over and he joined them, after taking the pint of another bar patron who was too busy flirting with one of the bar maids to notice it disappear.  Sitting down, he nodded his grim greetings to them and turned to Matthew who looked no worst for wear.  That was good; at least the man had escaped unscathed, though several chicken feathers were still stuck in his hair.

“You were right,” he started without preamble, “things have gotten a lot worst since we have been away.  I need one of you to find my men and bring them back as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do it,” Matthew volunteered quietly, “what is it?”

“The raiders’ attack on Knighton was planned by the Sheriff-“

“That bastard,” Terence looked livid, “I’ll kill him, make him pay-“

“Not yet, Terence,” Robin placed a hand on the man’s wrist, seeing his eyes blaze with fury.  “You will get your chance.”

“Good,” the man slumped back in his seat before taking a large swig of his ale.

“Terence, can I count on you to stay in the town and make sure that no other man, woman, or child is affected by this spell of sorts?”

“You mean there is really a witch in the castle?!” Matthew looked frightened.

“Not exactly,” Robin did not want to tell anyone else about the Piece of Eden, “I’ll explain it later.”

“I will.  Do you need me to rally the people together to storm the castle?” Terence asked his voice still gruff with fury.

“Not a bad idea, but for now, no.  We don’t know how this spell is being used against the people so I will not risk anyone else just in case.  Just make sure that no one else is affected,” he said.

The gravedigger who had lost three members of his family nodded once before taking another swig of his ale, thumping the cup down a bit harder than necessary.

“George,” Robin turned to the last of the three, “what I’m asking you is the hardest of all the jobs I have for the three of you.  I need you to pretend that you are still the Sheriff’s spy and report back to me all of his dealings, especially the whereabouts of the Duke of Austria.  I did not see him while I was in the castle.”

“I don’t know if he’s even arrived, no noble-“

“That’s because you didn’t see him when he came at night!” Matthew cut the man off, shaking his head, “the two of you were already sleeping.”

“Good point,” George conceded and Robin held a hand up, trying to calm them down.

“Can you do this for me George?” he asked, staring at the man.

“Yes, I will,” George looked a bit frightened, but nodded bravely.

“Good,” Robin could see at least half of his plan forming.  Now he needed the other half, “do you know where Rowan is?”

“Rowan from Treeton?  Lady Marian’s squire?” Terence asked, surprised.

“Yes.  I need to find him.”

“Laddie’s been staying with a lady friend somewhere I think on, uh, Eleventh Street, number twenty-one,” Terence looked sheepish and Robin blinked in surprise.  He did not know that Rowan was already calling on a girl, though he was nearly the proper age to do it.  In fact, Rowan was about Robin’s age when he left for the Crusades, the age when men were expected to call on women they fancied or already had arranged marriages in the case of nobility.

He knew that some in his village had been disappointed that he had not married anyone before he left, but it had also left some of the girls of the village hopeful.  Little did they know he only had eyes for Marian ever since he had challenged her to find a literal needle in a haystack during her birthday party.  Still, Rowan calling on a girl he fancied…time flew real fast.

He thanked Terence for his information and outlined quick directions to Matthew to find his gang before bidding them a quick goodbye and left the tavern, depositing the untouched drink he had stolen from the flirtatious patron who still did not notice it was missing until he accidentally knocked it into the bar maid’s dress, immediately inciting a huff of annoyance from her before she flounced away to clean herself up.  The guffawing laughter of the patrons within the bar echoed in Robin’s ears as he made his way carefully to Eleventh Street, all the way across the other side of town.

This area of Nottingham Town was a little less affluent and contained mostly residential homes, but it did not stop him from occasionally hiding in an alley way and pretending he was a beggar when several patrols wandered by.  He finally made it to the numbered house and knocked on the door, furtively glancing to his left and right to make sure there were no patrols within the vicinity.

Several second passed before the door was unlocked and a young woman, her dark hair flowing loose in a thick braid answered, looking at him with puzzlement in her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” her voice was kind and she had freckles dotting her cheeks, “I don’t have any money to spare, good sir.  If you could just-“

“Wait,” Robin realized that from the tattered cloak he had borrowed, she had mistaken him as a beggar, “I’m here to see Rowan-“

He saw her eyes narrow imperceptibly, “I do not know whom you are taking about, sir.”

Robin glanced to his left and right before pulling the cloak of his hood off just slightly, enough so that his face was showing and opened his mouth to speak before Rowan’s youthful voice interrupted him.

“Robin?  Is that you?” it came from behind the girl and he peered into the slightly darkened hall of her house to see Rowan emerging from the shadows, sword in hand, ready to strike.

“Rowan,” he grinned as the girl stepped to the side to let him enter before closing the door behind him.  He embraced the young man heartily, slapping him on the back before releasing him.  “Why are you-“

“Been staying at my aunt’s place while she’s visiting family in Boston,” Rowan shrugged, sheathing his sword, “Bridget here’s helped me escape from the kitchens after the Sheriff didn’t exactly believe me and wanted to throw me into the dungeons.”

“It was the Sheriff’s plan to burn Knighton to the ground and have the raiders kidnap Marian and her father,” Robin explained.

“Bloody bastards,” Rowan swore, adding a few more choice words that Robin did not know where the man had learned it, but made a mental note that if Marian kept him as a squire, to occasionally reprimand him for using such language.  “Sorry,” he apologized, realizing that he and the girl, Bridget, were staring at him.

“Listen, I need your help and the rest of the gang are on their way back as fast as they can.  I’ve sent Matthew, one of the Sheriff’s former spies in Knighton, to fetch them, but we need to act now.”

“I know; Terence and George helped me escape.  I thought they were going to turn me in for a second there, but the two said that they realized the Sheriff doesn’t give one lick about them and their families when he let the people of Knighton rebuild without his help,” Rowan gave him a slightly wolfish smile.

“Sheriff has Edward in his dungeons, I’m sure of it.  It was a very clever trap with them holding Marian and Edward separately.  The inch of truth,” he muttered, still kicking himself for not being able to see through such a simple ruse.  He had been expecting an elaborate plot, but the Sheriff had tricked him by using the simplest of all.

“Then I’m your man,” Rowan stepped forward, “Sir Edward’s been like a father to me since I buried mine months ago.  I won’t let the Sheriff kill him like he had Gisborne do to mine.”

“Good,” Robin glanced at Bridget who looked worried yet infinitely proud of Rowan at the same time.  Already she seemed like a strong woman and he was glad that the young man had found someone to compliment him.  “Bridget, do you know if there’s some parchment and ink around this house?”

“Yes, I’ll fetch them for you,” she quickly disappeared and returned a few minutes later, materials in hand.

“All right,” Robin unfurled a roll and began to draw a hasty sketch of the castle and its halls, “here’s what we’ll do…”

                                    *                      *                      *

**2 nd RAIDERS’ CAMP, OUTSIDE ** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Marian had picked up a bow and several arrows along with a longsword from the body of one of the raiders that Robin’s men had killed when rescuing her and now kept her bow strung and ready at a moment’s notice as they approached the location of the second raider camp where hopefully her father was.  There had been no sign of Forrest or his men, but Little John was confident with a fatherly sort of pride that Forrest would join them soon enough.

It had taken a moment for Marian to figure out who Forrest was; having barely seen him with the other outlaws before Royston White had perished and remembered that she had disliked the mousy-looking man.  It wasn’t because he was an outlaw, but rather he was a bit more callous towards other nobles and even other members of the gang before he had left them.  Marian had said good riddance to such a man like he, but now was surprised and touched to hear that it was he who had figured out what band of raiders had taken her and her father and he was the one who was also coming to their rescue.

“That’s the camp,” Will whispered as they emerged from the woods, slowly walking towards the seemingly empty camp.  The embers of a dying fire still glowed, but as Marian looked around, training her bow warily towards the rock face on one side and even towards the woods where they had emerged from, there was no one here…

“The lights are still on, but no one’s home,” Allan cracked and Marian rolled her eyes at the joker’s sense of humorous timing.

“Shh, it could be an ambush,” Djaq hissed, also training her bow warily above and around them.

“Wait,” Little John suddenly halted, stopping everyone as they froze in place, “do you hear that?”

“Hear what-“

“Shh!” Marian also thought she heard something and strained her ears.  She frowned, puzzled, “It sounds like…laughter…”

She followed the sound of laughter to a nearby tent where she paused and stared.  In front of her, tied to the shallow tent pole itself and sitting on the ground was a man wearing the remnants of a raiders’ armor.  His hair was disheveled and he was laughing uproariously.

“H-Hello?” she ventured, lowering her bow slightly.

The man’s eyes, pointed towards the heavens suddenly looked towards her and his laughter abruptly stopped, leaving him gasping for air.  “You are all too late…so very late…”

“This guy’s off of his rocker, that’s what he is…” Allan sounded worried, but tried to make it into a joke.

“Too late,” the man sang.

“Too late for what?” Djaq moved just a bit closer.

“Your precious Robin of the Wood, Robin Hood’s walked into a trap!” the man pointed his eyes skyward once more and resumed his insane laughter.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Night had already fallen for several hours when Robin made his second attempt within the day to enter the castle, Rowan swiftly behind him.  The two had launched their plan with a little help from Bridget who played the damsel in distress, having fallen and tripped in front of the portcullis in an effort to carry two barrels of wine to the kitchens.  She had also been willing to entice the guards by the portcullis by showing a little of the skin of her legs and they had been happy to help her carry the wine barrels in.

As soon as they were deposited into the kitchens and Bridget had thanked them heartedly, kissing each of the four guards on the cheek, before they left, blushing like ripe tomatoes.  She had then helped them out of the barrels, carefully lifting the top half which was filled with wine in case the guards had inspected the goods, and letting them out.  Rowan had told her she enjoyed her role a little too much to which she blushed prettily and said she would wait for him to return before making her way out of the castle, her role in their plan to free Edward done.

Robin did not want to take any unnecessary risks, especially with Rowan’s woman, and so made sure that she was well aware that she was not to linger as soon as her role was done.  She had fully understood his meaning and even reassured Rowan who had tried to order her to stay, but failed.

Rowan’s role in their plan was to be his lookout and Robin made sure that the young man followed his instructions to the letter.  He did not want to risk Rowan becoming an outlaw in the Sheriff’s books, even though there was suspicion upon him already; better for him to have no evidence of his dealings with Robin Hood than to have any association with him at all.  If at any point it looked like Rowan was about to be caught, he would quickly escape and return through an alternate route they had discussed for emergency use, the sewers.  It was highly unpleasant, but it was the path that Robin had planned to use to help Sir Edward escape.

The only hitch he could foresee was Edward was too sick to move, probably having been without his medicine for several days now.

So he left Rowan milling about at the entrance to the dungeons, dressed as the castle guard that had been left to guard the entrance.  At least they had not replaced the dungeons with Prince John’s own men, that was one thing he was grateful for.  It had been easy to knock the poor man unconscious and stuff him into a broom closet where it was assured that he would not wake up for several hours, especially with all of the supplies piled upon him.

He himself kept his cloak about him, as he quietly knocked several of the guards out and checked to see the jail keeper nursing a bottle of ale, already quite drunk and half asleep.  So far, everything was going according to the plan.  The next guard Robin knocked out he took the keys from and made his way deeper into the dungeons.  He turned a corner and nearly dropped the keys he had acquired as he saw Edward in one of the cells.

“Sir Edward?” he ventured cautiously, noting how deathly pale and gaunt the man looked, even with his eyes closed, lying on the straw mat he had for his bed.  There were purple and red bruises from whatever skin Robin could see.  “My God, what did they do to you?” he could not keep the horrified whisper from falling out of his lips as he slowly approached.  “Sir Edward?” he tried again, unlocking the door, but the man made no movement or sound to indicate that he heard him.

A sudden spike of fear filled Robin as he wondered if Edward had died.  He immediately wrenched the door open and hurried in, placing a hand on the man’s neck to feel a pulse.  Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, he could feel a steady, strong pulse from Edward and was glad that the man was still alive.

“You should not have come, Robin,” the barest of whispers emerged from Edward’s mouth and Robin stared at the man, puzzled until he suddenly leapt back, narrowly avoiding the deadly swipe of a sword that cut through the air where he used to be.  However, he did not leap far back enough; clanging onto the cell bars and the tip of the sword raked a small shallow cut into his stomach.

Robin hissed in pain as he ducked to avoid the swipe of the longsword once more, Edward leaping to his feet, attacking him with vicious abandon.  “Edward!  It’s me!  Robin!”

“You should not have come!” the old man roared in fury before attacking him once more.  Robin did all he could to avoid the swipes and wondered what had gotten into the old man when he looked so pale and fragile lying in the cell.  Surely Edward recognized him!

“Edward!” he yelled, trying to see if there was any way to regain the man’s sanity as the longsword cut across the bars above where his head used to be, sending a shower of sparks flying.

“Leave me be!” the man yelled and this time Robin caught the note of desperation, of a plea in his voice.  He rolled to his feet and held his hands up defensively, knowing that they were useless, but nonetheless tried to build a semblance of a defense.  He would not draw his sword to attack Edward, not a friend nor ally.

“Edward snap out of it!  It is me, Robin of Locksley!  Robin Hood!” he shouted again and shifted to his left, barely avoiding the inhuman yell of rage as Edward with impossible strength nearly split him in half.  The wound in his stomach still pulsated its pain, even though it was a mostly shallow cut, but he deftly ignored it.  He had survived worst…

“Son of a cur!  You deserve no less than a hangman’s noose!” Edward charged at him, his sword held high before Robin pushed off of his body and sent him towards the cells where he crashed against it, but managed to keep his footing.

Robin circled warily, wondering what kind of madness was Edward under before the realization belted him around the head.  Edward was suffering what some of the peasantry above was suffering from; he was under the influence of the Piece of Eden, except…  He recognized this, the fury and the anger.  It had been his own, except his had become an almost unstoppable rampage, once in the bowels of what he had thought was Jerusalem but was really Acre, the other time, at Marian’s house, facing off of Hadiya’s assassins.

“No…” he shook his head.  If they had corrupted Edward, if they had twisted his mind with the Piece of Eden, he dared not think of the ugly thoughts anymore.

“You abandon everyone to fight for your glory, you are no better than the dogs of Saracens you slaughtered in the Holy Lands!” Edward shouted and Robin was taken aback at the furious words the man was spitting out.  “My daughter,” Marian’s father charged at him, stabbing wildly, but Robin danced left and right to avoid his blows before pushing him towards the other side and landed behind him, still unwilling to draw his own sword, “does not deserve you.  You have abandoned her!”

“Edward!” Robin remembered each of his own ‘episodes’ under the deadly influence of the Pieces of Eden as if it was yesterday, and knew that the only way to break the spell was to either kill the person or speak of reason to said person, both of which was infinitely hard.  “Edward!  I did abandon Marian when I left for glory and for the King!  You are right!”

The almost unintelligible roar of hate from Edward nearly drowned his words out as he received another shallow cut, this time on his shoulder, but he pulled forward on Edward’s stabbing momentum and pinned him against the cell bars, staring deep into the man’s eyes which were colored completely black.  “I did abandon her, you were right.”

He could feel Edward fighting against the pinning grip he held him in, surprised at how much unnatural strength the old man had within him.  It had to be the Piece’s doing, amplifying whatever strength he had left and using it.

“I abandoned you, abandoned everyone in Locksley, and should have stayed to make sure Nottinghamshire was in good hands.  I regret that ever since and now it’s come to this, but Edward!”

The man snarled at him.

“She said yes!  Your daughter, your beloved daughter told me that she forgave me and she accepted my proposal!”  He thought he saw the flicker of the man’s blue eyes appear from under the blackness and knew he was getting through to the man.  “Marian’s safe, Edward.  Your daughter is safe…”

More flickers of the blue eyes under the black when suddenly Edward slammed Robin into the same bars he had been pinning him again, making stars explode in front of his eyes and stunning him.  He felt his grip on the man’s arms slacken as he fell to the ground, trying to regain his footing.  But the painful blow had done its job and as soon as he was able to clear the stars from his eyes, he looked up to see Edward, pointing his sword at his throat, his face a conflicting mask of pain and of furious anger.

“R-Robin…help me,” Edward’s voice cracked with the effort it took him to hold the sword at his throat and he realized his words had gotten through the man, but there was barely any strength left in him to fight off the Piece’s influence that was swirling within him.

“Sir Edward,” he held a hand up, trying to ward away the sword, “just put the sword down…no one needs to die today.”

The flickering pain filled smile almost broke Robin’s heart, “I…I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right, it’s-“

Robin did not get to finish his words when the sword that was held to his throat disappeared as Edward reversed the grip he had on his weapon and plunged it deep into his own chest.  “No!” he shouted, half crawling over to Edward as he fell to the ground and managed to catch the man’s head before it could hit the stony floor.

“No,” he whispered, as he saw the blackness fade from Edward’s eyes, replaced by the clear blue irises of his own, “Why?”  Blood was already forming at the corners of Edward’s mouth as he smiled sadly, his eyes blinking rapidly along with his breath, the wound he gave himself a fatal one.

“Because,” the man drew a shallow breath, “I would have killed you, my future son-in-law.  And…”  He drew another shallow breath, “for that, it would have broken Marian’s heart.”

Robin wordlessly shook his head, unable to understand why Edward did what he did.

“R-Robin,” the man’s breaths were getting shallower and a sense of urgency filled his eyes, “Robin you have to…have to listen to me.  The K-King…he is a prisoner of Leopold V, D-Duke of Austria.”

“But…Leopold’s here?”

“Lies,” the man hissed quietly, “all lies...  Leopold arrives soon, with Richard as his prisoner to bargain the division of Richard’s lands with his brother, John.  You must…”  Here, he struggled to breathe and Robin nodded urgently, “You must s-save him, Robin.  S-Save the King…”

Edward suddenly relaxed and Robin thought the man had died when the corners of Edward’s lips twitched up in a sad smile, “You…would have made me proud as a son.”

His eyes drooped closed and this time Robin felt the man’s last breath fall from his chest as his whole body became limp.  A profound sense of sorrow filled him as he barely heard the jangle of booted feet running towards the cell.  As the feet drew closer he turned his head to see a multitude of soldiers, both Sheriff’s guards and the Prince’s men approaching the area.

It had all been a trap, Matthew’s lies, the raiders’ attack on Knighton, rumors of the King’s return; they had an inch of truth to them, but were all lies.  The only truth he knew was the one that Edward had told him, because in the end, he was sure that he had been told by Prince John himself the real plan, the Prince knowing that Edward was going to die in this cell to trap him.

 “Well gentleman,” Prince John emerged from the multitude of soldiers surrounding his cell, the Sheriff and Gisborne behind him, “this, is how you capture an outlaw.”

And what a fine and elaborate plan it was.

 

~END OF PART 1~

 

**Author’s Notes:**

            So ends the first part of the trilogy.  Next part to be posted starts the middle half of the trilogy, subtitled Return to the Moment.  With Robin captured and the outlaws facing a traitor in their midst, more lives will certainly be lost before this whole trilogy comes to an end.  And what of King Richard, a prisoner of Duke Leopold V of Austria?

            For those who are Assassin’s Creed fans, Altaїr will make his appearance in the next part (this first part was just a cameo of sorts to set him up for the middle half of the trilogy).  Once again, I’d like to thank my beta reader Algae09 for checking my spelling, grammar, and inconsistent plot points.  Also for making sure that Robin and company stay in character.  I would also like to thank the readers for continuing to read this story.  I will see all of you in the next half of the trilogy.  Comments are always appreciated and welcomed!  9/7/10.


	4. Return to the Moment - Part 1: Riposte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from where Part 1 left off, when the gang learns of Robin’s capture by Prince John, they struggle to mount a rescue. But with Gisborne chasing them, the outlaws have no where to run. Meanwhile, the Duke of Austria is set to arrive with King Richard as his prisoner and the outlaws have to weigh the risks of either rescuing Robin or rescuing the King. For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life.

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Moment

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in early November.  **It is recommended that you read all of the previous stories I have written for _Robin Hood_ (including the crossovers), but _not_ required to enjoy this fanfic.**

 

**Summary:**

            Continuing from where Part 1 left off, when the gang learns of Robin’s capture by Prince John, they struggle to mount a rescue.  But with Gisborne chasing them, the outlaws have no where to run.  Meanwhile, the Duke of Austria is set to arrive with King Richard as his prisoner and the outlaws have to weigh the risks of either rescuing Robin or rescuing the King.  For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life.

 

**Historical Note:**

            King Richard signed a treaty with Salah al-Din around late August of 1192 before finally leaving the Holy Lands in September of 1192.  However, he was captured by Leopold V, Duke of Austria before turned over to Emperor Henry VI of Germany and the Holy Roman Empire who held him ransom for a rather large sum of money.  That debt was paid off mostly by his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard finally returned home (home being northern France) in 1194.  Due to continuity errors and for the sake of this story, I am ignoring the 1194 date and setting this story in late 1192.  There will be an additional historical note at the end of this trilogy.

 

**Story:**

 

_Part 1 – Riposte_

 

**SEWERS OF** **NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Rowan resisted the urge to gag and hurl whatever contents were left in his stomach as he moved through the dark and damp sewers underneath NottinghamCastle.  When Robin had suggested using the sewers as a backup plan, he had agreed without knowing full well what was lurking inside the dank and disgusting place.  And that smell, that god-awful smell…  He was going to swim in Locksley village’s pond for a long, long time after they got Edward out safe and sound.

He paused, gathering his bearings for a moment before turning down another path.  He hoped he was going in the right direction; every single corridor down the sewers looked alike and smelled the same.  Bridget was going to murder him for bringing such a smell into the home he was borrowing from his aunt.  Sloshing through, pulled his boots through the muck before letting out a quiet groan.

In front of him were several grates that led into the courtyard of the castle.  He had wanted to arrive near the kitchens, not the damned courtyard.  He was about to turn around when a familiar shout followed by sounds of a struggle made him pause, staring back towards the grate.

“Let me go!” Bridget’s shrill voice was clear as day and echoed loudly in the tunnels of the sewer and Rowan watched in dismay as he saw the scuffle of feet pass by the grate, including her familiar shoes before she was dragged away by the booted feet of the castle guards.

“Throw her in the dungeons, she can rot for aiding the outlaws!” a gruff voice said, “where’s the boy?!”

“Not found yet sir,” one of the guards replied and Rowan found himself unconsciously backing away from the grate, afraid that if he made any sudden movements, they would be able to find him here.  Bridget had been captured, he realized with dread.  She was supposed to be waiting for him at his aunt’s house, her part in all of this done.  She was to have no other association with Robin Hood or even his plans…

“No,” the whisper fell unbidden from his lips.  There were only two people that knew of where he had been hiding out.  Robin he trusted with his life, but Terence…the man had betrayed him!  Had led the guards to Bridget to capture her and if he had gone back, he would have been captured too.

He grabbed his hair in frustration as he wondered what he was going to do now.  He needed to let Robin know that they had to rescue her, before the Sheriff could torture her.  If she died because of him, he could never forgive himself.  “Robin, need to find Robin,” he muttered as he looked out once more into the courtyard and made to turn back to continue into the labyrinthine maze that was the sewers.

However just as he turned he felt someone grab hold of him and instinctively fought against the strong grip before a hand covered his mouth.  He cried out, but his cries were muffled and he wrenched his head around to see who had grabbed hold of him-

“Stop struggling lad!” Terence hissed in his ear, but his words had the opposite effect as he realized that the man that had betrayed Bridget had him in his grip.  He fought harder, wrenching his wrists and hands out of the grip, aided by the slippery sewage water and fought free.

“You!” he shouted as he turned around, eyes blazing with fury, his fists balled, ready to beat the man for what he had done.

“It wasn’t me!” the man insisted, but Rowan roared his anger and launched himself at him, arms flailing.  “It wasn’t me!”

He tried to beat the man down, but his wrists were caught in his iron grip just as a swift kick was delivered to his stomach, knocking the air from him.  He nearly fell into the dirty water before being wrenched upright by Terence.

“It was not me!” the man hissed at him, his eyes blazing in fury and Rowan gritted his teeth.  He wanted to believe him, but how could there be any other person who knew of Bridget’s involvement and the like?  No one knew about Bridget except him, Terence, and Robin.

“If it wasn’t you, then who?!” he shot back, “who?!”

“Matthew,” the man shook his head, releasing him and running a hand through his hair, the other one balled into a fist, “it was Matthew.”

“But-“ Rowan did not get to finish his question as the shouts of soldiers in the sewers made the two of them look towards the source and the back at each other.

“Come on, this way lad!” Terence tugged at his shirt, “you have to trust me.”

“But…” Rowan looked between Terence and the ever closer guards, torn.

“If you never trust another soul after this, then trust me for now,” the man tugged harder.

“Bridget-“

“We need to go now Rowan!  You’re no good to Bridget if you’re captured!  Likewise no good to Robin!”

Rowan made a strangled noise as he gave in to the tugging and follow Terence deeper into the sewers.  He would be damned either way, he thought as he followed the other man.  To his surprise, the shouts of the guards drew further and further away before Terence led the two of them upwards and they exited outside the gates of the castle in one of the market streets.

Together they made their way back to his aunt’s house and as soon as the door closed, Rowan let out the sigh of relief he had been holding, sliding down to the ground in a heap of exhaustion.  “Seems like you were telling the truth,” he glanced up at Terence who was pacing back and forth, his gaze hunted as if searching for something.

“Shh!” the man hissed and Rowan fell silent.  After a few minutes though Terence visibly relaxed and sat down in one of the dining table’s chairs, shaking his head.  “I’m sorry, Rowan…I should have been more careful.  You would think these years of spying for the Sheriff would have made me more so…”

“Well?” Rowan prompted when the man wasn’t too forthcoming after that statement.

“Mentioned where you were staying in Matthew and George’s presence when Robin came to look for you.” Terence glared at nothing in particular, “bloody bastard had it in for all of us.”

“How do you know it was not George?” he asked.

“Because Matthew tried to kill me right before he left with Gisborne to find the other outlaws.  I only escaped because I faked my own drowning in the sewers earlier,” Terence replied, “realized what was happening and tried to warn you and Robin away from the plan.  Guess I was too late.”

Rowan had no answer for him and looked away, staring at the pots and pans that Bridget had set out to cook tonight’s dinner after Sir Edward had been successfully rescued.  “I take it Robin’s been captured too?” he asked dully.

“It was all a trap.  All of it.  I only managed to get to you because, well, you were the only one I could find,” the man shrugged, “and now-“

“We rescue Bridget and Robin,” Rowan cut him off, pushing himself up right as he leaned against the door.

“Are you out of your bloody mind, laddie?!  Those are Prince John’s guards that were _hunting_ you!  They’re not your average-“

“I don’t give a damn!” Rowan nearly shouted before remembering where he was and the fact that the Sheriff and Prince John’s men may still be looking for him, “I don’t give a damn.”

“It’s too late anyways,” Terence growled out, “Robin’s lost.  The Prince won, this whole place will have gone to hell.”

“I am not ready to give up yet,” he glared fiercely at the older man, “and neither should you!”

Terence looked like he was about to say something else before staring at him for a moment.  Rowan met his gaze evenly, unconsciously drawing himself up to match the man before the older man shook his head.  “You have the same recklessness and foolishness as Hood and the others.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rowan allowed himself a roguish smile.

Terence sighed and got up, looking around for something before tossing him a woolen blanket, “Here, clean yourself up and get some rest.  We’ll plan the rescue in a few hours.”

“What about George?” Rowan asked as he got up from the floor and dusted himself off, grimacing at his sopping wet boots and pants.

“We’ll check his loyalties after you get some rest,” the older man replied, “get some sleep, Rowan.  We’ll both need it to pull of a rescue under the heaviest guard yet.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

There were good days and there were bad days, but the day that Robin Hood languished in his cells, unable to escape this time, with a very well-thought-out and carefully planned trap was a great day; a very great day for Sheriff Vaysey.  The added fact that the annoying and interfering Sir Edward Fitzwalter was dead by Hood’s hand was only a sweetener to an already great day.

His lips twitched up in a smile as he drank from his wine cup once more, relishing at how sweet the taste was.  Lately that wine had not been sweet and in fact had been staler than anything, but today.  Today was a very good day.

“Enjoying yourself?” Prince John’s voice made him look up to see him walking towards him and Vaysey hastily got up, nearly dropping his wine cup.

“Ah, Your Majesty,” he bowed slightly before gesturing to the jug of wine he had sitting next to the cup, “would you like some?”

“I will abstain for now, but thank you, Vaysey,” the Prince smiled congenially and gestured for him to sit back down as he took the seat opposite of him in the Great Hall’s long table.

“Enjoying yourself?” the Prince asked again.

“With Hood in my jail, unable to escape, yes,” Vaysey gave him a triumphant smile, “a brilliant plan Your Majesty.”

“Yes, I’m rather quite good at them, if I do say so myself,” the Prince looked at his rings in a vaguely disinterested manner.

“Err, yes,” truth be told, Vaysey would have liked to credit a majority of that plan to himself, after all, it was he who had suggested burning Knighton Hall down, preferably with that simpering leper Marian in it seeing that she always had Gisborne on a short leash, but it was the Prince who suggested that due to the possible connection between her and Hood, for her and her father to be captured instead.

So he had resigned himself to the fact that the leper was still alive, but took some pleasure in the fact that it was Hood himself who killed the deranged Sir Edward Fitzwalter, after a fashion.  It had also been the first time he had seen the Piece of Eden used on a person, having only heard stories from the guards that had been assigned to the dungeons when that assassin Hadiya had been here.  Granted Prince John had allowed him to use the partial Piece of Eden he had gotten from Le Celle, he still could not believe the power it held, the effortless ways he had used it to break the old man’s mind and leave him completely shattered.

If Gisborne was smart enough, he would have already dealt with the leper Marian, but he had given him a hint that he needn’t wait for Marian’s approval.  This close to victory, with Hood’s men on the run, he could just take Marian by force.  Now it only stood to see if his second had the spine to do what he wanted to do instead of bowing down to her every whim.

“Your man, Gisborne, was it?” the Prince started conversationally after a moment of silence, tapping his fingers on the table.  “Seems conflicted, wouldn’t you say?”

“How so?” Vaysey was puzzled.

“I would say daft, but he seems to be plagued by troubles other than his own,” the Sheriff wondered what his Prince was getting at.  “Tell me, does he have a secret lover he does not want to share with me?  Because I would give my approval if he does have such a woman.”

“Well,” Vaysey gave him a half smile, “Gisborne has been pining over the Lady Marian Fitzwalter.”

“Sir Edward’s daughter?” the Prince looked surprised, however the Sheriff didn’t fall for his act.  If anything, he knew that the Prince knew of this already, especially since he had written it countless times on his reports sent to the court.  “Interesting…”

“Milord?”

“You have me burn her home in Knighton, yet do not suggest that she be captured.  Why not?”

“Her…loyalties are questionable, my Prince,” he shrugged, “she used to be betrothed to Robin Hood himself before he went to the Holy Lands.”

“Ah, and yet you did not realize she would be a spy within your court,” Prince John looked shrewd.

“Milord, how could I?  She showed an obvious disdain for him and my spies-“

“Former spies now, well, except that wonderful young man to whom you agreed to burn his mother for,” the Prince interjected smoothly.

“Yes, Matthew,” Vaysey agreed, “my spies have not reported Hood making contact with her or her father since his return.”

“But obviously they must have.  Otherwise, how could your brilliant plans be ruined every single time?”

“Milord, you are mocking me,” the Sheriff was a bit worried at how intently his Prince was looking at him.  He felt trapped.

“Mocking you?  No,” Prince John laughed lightly, “I am merely taking a roundabout way in asking if Gisborne is pursuing this Lady Marian, would his loyalties to our cause, to the Templars be conflicted?  I hope to make a stunning impression upon the head of the Order when Leopold arrives you know.”

“I do not believe that would be a problem, milord,” the last time he had seen his _leftenant_ , there had been something different about him.  Something that told him that Gisborne had abandoned all pretenses of pretending he was noble and kind and instead would get what he wanted.  He had left with Matthew to lead them to Hood’s outlaws after that, but if anything, he was pleased to see the spine that he had thought Gisborne had lost, growing.

“Good,” his Prince looked pleased, both with his answer and seemingly about something else.  “Now, about Hood’s execution.”

“I believe killing him right now would be beneficial.  Hood’s men have a tendency to stage successful rescues,” he hoped his admission would not be looked down upon by his Prince.

“I’ve noticed,” the Prince’s smile disappeared, replaced by a frown; “however, with my men here, it is suffice to say they are better trained than your country bumpkins.  No, I do not want him executed yet.”

“Milord?” Vaysey sounded nervous.

“Oh don’t be nervous, my dear Vaysey, it is most unbecoming of you,” Prince John rolled his eyes, “no I want Hood alive, for the time being.  When my brother arrives, I want him to see the man he had foolishly sent back executed in front of him.  I want his spirit broken by that and with the Piece in hand, he will turn.”

“Even the King-“

“My brother had no heirs, no bastards even.  He treats his men like they were his own sons,” the Prince looked shrewd, “and my spies have told me that he treated Hood in the Holy Lands like he was his own.  No, I want Richard to realize that Hood is the one responsible for all of this, for the fact that I will take what is rightfully mine.”

“Ah, an excellent plan,” Vaysey smiled slightly just as the knock on the door to the Great Hall made him look up to see a guard entering with a disheveled looking girl who had been bound and gagged.  “What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the trussed up girl.

“Based on the tip we got, she is one of Hood’s accomplices,” the guard replied gruffly, “we’re still looking for the boy, Rowan of Treeton, but this girl tried to deny it and run away.”

Vaysey gave him the best ‘why-should-I-care’ look to the guard who shrank back slightly.  “Begging your pardon milord, my Prince, but I thought you should-“

“No, that is all right,” the Prince suddenly got up from the table and approached the girl who shrank back as he reached out to touch her chin.  He made a small humming noise before turning back around and waved an absent hand towards the guard, “throw her in the dungeons.  Make sure she is not tortured.  When I get my lands I will be leaving with her.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard replied before dragging the girl away.

“Now back to the matter at hand, Vaysey.  Are we clear that I do not want Hood dead before my brother arrives with the Duke’s entourage?” he asked as the door closed shut with a loud bang.

“Clear, Your Highness,” Vaysey blinked a bit as he plastered a smile on his face and nodded his head.  He still thought it was a bad idea, but who was he to contradict the person who would give him a wealth of power after all of this was done.

                                    *                      *                      *

**SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Marian blindly ran, ignoring the bramble that cut into her skin and got stuck on the sleeves of her clothing.  The insane raider's words haunted her, taunting her of the trap Robin was sure to fallen in.  She heard the crunches of leaves and branches behind her, knowing that the other outlaws were following her, making their best speed towards Nottingham.  They had been running nonstop for the past day and half and judging by Forrest's prediction were only another day and half away from the outskirts of Nottingham town.

Marian and the rest of the outlaws had met up with Forrest and his band only about a day ago, literally running into the group as they were on their way to the third raider encampment.  She had all but ignored them except for a hasty thanks to the sour-faced man before continuing on her way.  It was only through the sheer will of Little John and Djaq explaining to Forrest what had happened that the man and his band of outlaws had managed to follow them.

During one of her brief stops to get some water and for the others in Robin's group to at least eat something, Little John had approached her with the suggestion that perhaps having Forrest and his men with them would not be such a bad thing in case Robin had already been captured and they needed more people to infiltrate the castle and rescue him.  She had countered that perhaps Forrest and his men would do better to search more raider encampments for the whereabouts of her father, but it was Allan who had said that even if they had made it back to Nottingham in less than four days, the trap would have already been sprung, seeing that Robin had a two day head start.

She had at first refused to believe it, but after seeing the comprehension on Much's eyes, even Robin's most loyal and faithful friend and former servant, it had crushed her to realize the truth in Allan's words.  She had agreed then, for Forrest and his men to accompany them back to Nottingham to at least mount a rescue of sorts.  She had sent an apology up to God and to her Father for seemingly abandoning him to the raiders that had taken them, but hoped that he could forgive her for the delay in his rescue.

In her heart, she knew that Robin was more important.

So they ran, the gang ahead of Forrest’s men picking their way across the edges of Sherwood Forest, having only entered just a few hours ago.  Marian herself was unfamiliar with the northern edges of the Forest, having not ventured towards the northern towns beyond the forest in her whole life.  But Forrest had pointed the general direction towards Nottingham and the rest of the gang had gone ahead.  She was not going to lose Robin again, not after all they had been through for the past year.

Marian was navigating down a particularly tricky trail through some bramble when she paused, her ears picking up the sound of multiple hoof beats.  She glanced at the other outlaws who had also stopped, their heads turning this way and that, also alerted to the sound.

“I don’t mean to be funny, but that doesn’t sound good,” Allan called out a few paces away from her.

“Could be a passing cart or maybe it’s the King!” Djaq sounded somewhat hopeful as the sound of hooves drew closer and then Marian spotted the banners through a bend in the trees.

It was Prince John’s colors.

“Run!” she yelled, knowing that if they were caught here, they would never be able to get to Robin.  She would have been able to plead clemency with Prince John, being a noble and all, but the others, they were known outlaws and without them Robin’s rescue would not even have a chance.  As she sprinted deeper into the woods, ignoring the bramble that cut across her face and snagged her clothes, she hoped that Forrest and his men were smart enough to realize that something was wrong and come to their aid.

Her breath came in quick gasps as she leapt over several downed trees, the sounds of pursuit not lessening.  She heard the cries of the soldiers and risked a glance behind to see them charging after them off the worn path and into the woods.  Prince John’s men, unlike the Sheriff’s own, were more inclined to make sure justice was meted out instead of giving up a chase when outlaws took to the deep woods.

She suddenly skidded to a stop and tried to run to her right as several horsemen charged across her path.  Desperation gripped her as she tried to weave into the ever increasing presence of horsemen and armored soldiers all wearing Prince John’s color, but she found herself boxed in, the rest of the outlaws also trapped as they were herded closer and closer together.

Pikes and spears were shoved into their faces and Marian recoiled, backing away, her hands held up in an attempt to tell them that she was not going for her weapon.  She looked around the woods, trying to see if Forrest and his men were anywhere.  The bleak thought had occurred to her that Forrest and his gang had seen what was happening and had left them to their fates.  It would be typical of any other outlaw gang in Sherwood Forest, she supposed.  Only Robin and his men fought with honor, helping the poor instead of robbing everyone, poor and rich like most outlaws did.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes as she realized that they were trapped, caught by Prince John’s forces.  There would be no hope of rescue for Robin now…but she refused to let those tears fall from her eyes.  She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Is that them?” a familiar voice spoke up as a soldier, no, a knight dressed in the armor different than the rest of the horsemen, rode up to meet them.

“Let me see,” another equally familiar voice spoke up behind one of the soldiers and Marian’s eyes widened in shock as she saw Matthew, the same Matthew that Robin had vouched for not being the Sheriff’s spy anymore, wheeled his horse around and stared at them.  “Yes, that is them.”

“You traitor!” Little John growled out.

“You sold us out!” Will made a move to attack Matthew, but was restrained by Djaq and a spear shoved directly in front of his face.

Matthew leered down at them from on top of his horse, “It was nothing really.  Wanted to get rid of me mum and the Sheriff provided the perfect opportunity.  Old hag was really getting on my nerves.”

Allan muttered something that Marian could not quite catch, but she saw Djaq’s appalled look and a slight blush rise up on her face and realized that he had probably said something not used in polite society.

“Silence,” the knight, his face covered by his helmet glanced at Matthew who shrugged and backed his horse up slightly.

“As you wish, sire,” he replied flippantly, but nonetheless stayed silent.

“So what are Robin Hood’s men doing here?” the more Marian heard the mysterious knight speak, his voice sounded even more familiar.  She heard the same kind of drawling tone, the arrogance and contempt underneath.

“Sir Guy?” she tested the name hesitantly, wishing, hoping, praying that it was anyone but him.  Robin’s warning that Guy possibly knew she was the Nightwatchman weighed heavily upon her, and being in the company of the gang at the moment was also incriminating.

The knight lifted his helmet off and all hope that she had that it was another person was lost.  It was Guy and he looked decidedly angry.  Quickly deciding that it was time for a new tactic, she stepped forward, only to have a pike thrust out in a warning for her to back off.  Raising her hand a little higher she stepped back and looked imploringly at the man she knew had feelings for her, however much she wanted to reject them.

“Sir Guy, this is not what you think.  Robin Hood’s men, they rescued me-“

“I did not give you permission to speak, Lady Marian,” Guy did not meet her gaze and instead, glared at nothing in particular.  She saw his jaw twitching in anger and drew in a breath.

“Guy-“

This time he glared at her and she was shocked at the amount of anger and hurt in his eyes.  “Speak one more time and I’ll have you gagged and silenced!”  Turning away from her as if it was too painful to look at her, he glared down at the rest of the gang.  “As for the rest of you, bind them in chains and gag them.  Lady Marian will ride with me.  Make sure she too wears chains.  I don’t want her cutting her ropes on anything sharp.”

“No wait!  You can’t-“

“Can’t I?!” Guy wheeled around so quickly and pinned her with his fierce gaze that she nearly bumped into Djaq and Will.  “You are the Nightwatchman.  You should be put to death this instant, but I am merciful, even more so than your precious Robin Hood.”

“I am not the Nightwatchman-“

“I have it on excellent proof,” he glanced over to the gang and Marian followed his gaze to see Allan with a stricken look on his face, shaking his head rapidly.

“Allan?” Marian could not believe that Allan, of all people, would betray her in such a way.  Even the rest of the gang was staring at Allan, appalled.  “No,” she shook her head, “you’re lying, Guy.  You’re just trying to break us, make us distrust each other…“  Even as she trailed off in her protests she remembered that Robin had warned her that Guy knew about it.  Robin had known too, and the only way he could have known was if the one who had told Sir Guy the information had told him too.

“Bind them, now,” Guy’s command cut through her thoughts and she whirled around, despair filling her, trying to think of some way to defend against herself.  She could not be captured now, not when they were so close to freeing Robin.

“No,” the whisper fell from her lips, “no!”

She saw one of the guards coming towards her, a leering smile on his face as he held up the metal clamps and chains that were to be bound to her wrists, when suddenly he fell to the ground, choking as an arrowhead protruded out of his chest.  Several more of the soldiers and guards fell to the ground, shot down by multiple arrows and Marian instinctively ducked as did the rest of the gang the sounds of arrows flying all around them, filling the air.

She heard horses neighing wildly around her before a hand grabbed hers and pulled.  Marian fought the grip; she would not go with Sir Guy-

“Marian it’s me!” Much’s voice was close to her ear and she looked out of the corner of her eye to see that indeed it was Much who had grabbed hold of her and was dragging her along.

Following him, she let him lead her out of the chaos as she saw in the distance that it was Forrest and his men who had fired off the arrows, shouting and charging into the fray, swords drawn.  She realized that they were distracting the guards for them so that they could escape.

“We have to go back to help them!” she realized that though Forrest and his men were brave, they were also horribly outnumbered.  With the two gangs, they could possibly fight and hold off Guy and Prince John’s soldiers, but…

“We can’t!” Much shouted back, “they know what they’re doing!”

She nearly stumbled over several rocks and branches as she heard what he was saying.  Never in her life had she heard those words from him.  She had always thought of him as meek and submissive; too much of a worrywart and constantly following Robin around like a good servant should.  But to hear such words…

“Hide out number ten!” he shouted and she looked around her to see Will and Djaq pairing off and disappearing in a different direction, Little John and Allan doing the same.

“But Much-“

“We can’t,” he sounded so pained as he led her deeper into Sherwood, the sounds of the pitched battle fading behind them, “they…they know what they were doing.  R-Robin would say…”  His breath hitched slightly and Marian saw that tears were falling down his eyes.   He had said those words, but she realized that he had said those words because it was words that Robin had said, probably more than once while they were in the Holy Lands.  He was only emulating what Robin had done and knew what Robin had done during those times.

“Much…” her heart nearly broken and she squeezed his hand reassuringly, “I know…”

A bitter laugh escaped Much’s lips, a foreign sound to Marian’s ears.  She had never heard him talk about his time in the Holy Lands, and granted Robin did so even less, but to her, Much had always been cheerful, helpful, even finding some good in the days that were bad.  To hear such bitterness from him, it shocked her.  “Robin was always better at this…always able to keep a strict control on himself.  Me, I can’t even think, can’t even lead-“

“Much stop,” she tugged on his hand as they continued to run, “please.  Don’t do this to yourself.  Just…don’t.”

“But-“

“I know, Much, I know,” she could feel the tears falling down from her own eyes.  She and Much were suffering so much, suffering together over the loss of Robin, of the possibility that he had walked into the trap and was not going to walk out.  The encounter and betrayal by Matthew along with Guy had only served to heighten those feelings, bringing them to the forefront instead of lingering in the back.  “Just…be yourself, okay?  We’ll get Robin back, okay?  Please…”

“Y-Yeah,” he hastily wiped a hand across his eyes, “okay.”

“Now,” she smiled through the tears, “where is this hideout number ten?”

“This way, I think,” he paused, letting go of her hand as he surveyed the woods, “yeah, this way.”

“Let’s meet up with the others and figure out a plan to get Robin back,” she put as much reassurance in her words as possible and received a watery smile in return.

“Let’s.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Robin absently licked the salty sweat that poured down his face, his throat parched and dry.  He could feel the stinging beads that rolled down his back and front, down his face, the pain registering somewhere in his hazy and foggy mind.  His clothes hung across his shoulders, parts of it shredded when they had initially whipped him.  He knew that the whip marks were not deep, but the drip of his own sweat and perspiration made them sting each time one rolled down.

However, he dared not let his body twitch in reaction, lest he jar his own arms, which had been held above him for so long that he could barely feel anything from them.  Keeping his breaths even as possible, save for the occasional hitch that he could not prevent when his wounds pulled or stung, he tried to keep his shoulder muscles from relaxing too much, but it was hard.

The jangle of keys made him look blearily up to see the jail keeper opening the door to the torture cell he was in.  “’allo there, my pretty,” the jail keeper smiled at him and Robin ignored him, closing his eyes once more and keep as still as possible.

“No, no, no, we can’t have you doing that,” Robin’s eyes snapped open as he felt the slap across his cheeks.  “Wake up, wake up!”

“Go away,” he managed to croak out through his parched throat.

“Oh, so you do not even want to be let down, now do you?” the putrid rancid breath made Robin wince and nearly throw up whatever was in his stomach, which wasn’t much.

He watched as the jail keeper took a stool and set it near him before standing on top of it and fumbled with the chains that pulled him upwards.  Robin winced as he could feel his arm muscles pull and contract in protest before just as suddenly he fell to the ground, his arms released from the chains.  He could not keep a cry of pain from his lips as his arms flopped nearly uselessly about him, having been without circulation for so long.

The rush of pain was compounded when he attempted to roll onto his back and his stinging welts touched the rough stone work, making him curl to his side.  He felt his breath come in gasps as he tried to work through the pain, not to give the jail keeper any satisfaction, but over the loud jangle of chains and other things he suddenly found himself hauled upright and nearly fell again as his feet would not cooperate with him.

It was only by the saving grace of the guards that had hauled him upright and had firm grips on his useless arms that he did not meet the ground face first.  He bit his lip hard as he felt himself being dragged away.  Squinting, he saw that he was being taken back to his original cell, the same cell that Sir Edward had occupied, passing by several others to whom he thought some called his name, but in the haze of pain that was clouding his mind he could not find to reply.

It was only until he was dumped unceremoniously into his cell and the door locked behind him did he allow himself to gingerly roll to his side, his arms regaining some of their feeling.  He closed his eyes as he tried to assess the injuries he had received.  The shallow cut he had gotten from Sir Edward and from the raider meant nothing now, compared to the whipping welts and that the muscles in his arms were horribly stretched out, trying to support his weight in all of the time he had been hanging there.

“Robin…please,” the feminine voice next to his cell sounded vaguely familiar and Robin opened his eyes, craning his head a bit to see none other than Bridget staring back at him, wide-eyed and frightened.

“Thank God,” Bridget breathed out quietly, wiping a tear from her eye, “when they brought you in, I…I thought the worst.  You looked so…”

“It is not bad,” Robin carefully turned so that he was facing her, aware that he was still curled into his side, “I’m fine…”

“But-“

“They only hurt for a little while,” he lied, hoping to ease her mind, “nothing more.”

“I-I…understand,” Bridget wiped another tear, but gave him a brave smile, “I was caught, you see, they must have figured out that I was part of the distraction for you and Rowan so-“

“It was a trap, all of it,” Robin cut her off gently, closing his eyes once more as he replayed the sickening moment when he realized that Sir Edward had been corrupted by the Piece of Eden to the point of attacking him; the realization that had overcome his aged face before he had killed himself.  It was all a trap, a clever and wicked trap that he had fallen into.  “They knew we were coming,” he shook his head a little.

He wondered who had really tipped him off.  Maybe it was Terence, George, and Matthew, the three of them still working for the Sheriff.  He wanted to believe in the sincerity and the fact that they were innocent in all of this – that they had no knowledge of Knighton Hall’s attack and torching.  But then how would Bridget be caught if not for their betrayal?  Perhaps it was Terence; after all, he knew where Rowan and Bridget were staying for the time being.  Yet, George and Matthew had been there too, at the bar where Terence had told him.

That was foolish of him, he should have been more careful.  He should have known that spies would be everywhere.  It was like what he had learned in the Holy Lands, that there was no one he could trust.  Even his friends, Carter and Altaїr had their own secrets that they did not reveal to him.  He trusted them, or at least he liked to believe he trusted them, but he knew that some of their secrets had resulted in his capture-

“Robin?” Bridget spoke up again, breaking into his thoughts.

Robin opened his eyes and squeezed them momentarily shut before looking back at her.  He could not think such negative thoughts about two of his closest friends he had in the five years in the Holy Lands.  No, Carter and Altaїr had their secrets, but they did not betray him.  The Sheriff had deprived the people of Nottinghamshire for so long that it was reasonable to think that the parceling of coins into eager hands would result in betrayal.

“There is no honor amongst thieves,” he murmured and saw her expression crinkle in confusion, “just a saying I heard during my years in the Holy Lands.”

She nodded and Robin finally noticed that she was shivering, not from the cold, but rather, she was shivering from fright.  “It will be fine, Bridget,” he tentatively reached a hand out to her, feeling his too-stretched muscles protest, but ignored the shooting pain in his arms.  “I will not let them hurt you in any way.”

“I-I know,” she put on a brave smile as she met his hand with her fingers, but they shook with the effort, “I’m just…”

“They have no evidence against you,” Robin tried to put as much assurance as he could in his voice.  He and Rowan had planned carefully to minimize her role.  There was possibly no way they could link her to his attempt to rescue Sir Edward.  The only thing they could say was that she was just distracting the guards a bit, that was all.  “No evidence.”

She nodded and he patted her fingers gently through the bars, “Get some sleep, Bridget.  I will make sure you are safe.”

“All right,” she gave him a quick smile before curling up next to the bars and leaned her head against them.  Robin allowed her to grasp his fingers through the bars as she closed her eyes and tried to even out her shuddering breaths.  She was an innocent in all of this, caught up in his own reckless plans, and the fact that she was so frightened of being in the cell only belied how young she was; just a mere child.

“I’m sorry, Bridget,” he whispered as he watched her sleep.

                                    *                      *                      *

Robin jolted awake with a start as he heard the clanging of multiple boots and chains coming down the stairs to the cells and sat up, gritting his teeth at the flash of pain that ripped across his still healing arms and back.  He realized that several hours had passed and looked over to see that Bridget had also awakened, looking towards the entrance to the cells her eyes wide with fright.

“Stay there,” he ordered her as he stood up and peered towards the door, trying to see what was going on.  Just then the doors opened and in spilled a mess of people, some shouting, others fighting the guards.  Robin backed away from the door to his cell as he saw the mass of people moving towards them, swords flying before he saw both Rowan and Terence’s faces amongst the crowd, the two of them dressed like guards in the Sheriff’s colors.

“Robin!  Bridget!” Rowan shouted, smashing the head of one of the guards with the pommel of his sword before hurrying over to them.

“Hurry up!  We can’t keep it for that long!” a new voice shouted from the mess of guards, chains and people and Robin saw that it was Forrest and his men, all of them in chains, but fighting viciously against their captors.

“Key!” Rowan shouted as a set was tossed to him by Terence and he fumbled for their locks-

“Get her out first!” Robin ordered Rowan as he saw the young man approach him first.

“But-“

“Her first,” he insisted and Rowan nodded curtly before opening the door to Bridget’s cell.  As soon as the door was flung open Bridget herself hugged Rowan quickly and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.  Robin grinned at the public display of affection before Rowan regained his senses and hurried to open his door.

“Laddie, look out!” Terence’s shout made the three of them look up in time to see one of the guards charging at them, sword raised in an overhead swipe.

“Get out of here!” Robin shouted to Rowan as he barely ducked the broadsword, Bridget screaming as she clung onto him.

“Robin-“

“I can get myself out!” he reached around the bars and grabbed the keys jammed into the lock of his cell, ignoring the fiery pain that shot throughout him.  “Get out of here!”

“Rowan!” Bridget’s scream was cut short as weaved around the guard who was charging at them again.  Robin glanced up from where he was trying to turn the key to see Rowan and Bridget dodging the guard’s blows, trying to make their way back towards Terence who was still attacking the guards.  Some of Forrest’s men were already on the ground, either dead or unconscious, he could not tell, but he knew that Forrest was trying to buy them time to escape.

Gritting his teeth, Robin wrenched the key and cried out in joy as the door to his cell opened.  He immediately wasted no time and picked up a discarded short sword before charging at the guard who was chasing Rowan and Bridget around.  Yelling an inarticulate cry, he rammed the sword into the man’s back, ripping through the metal chain mail weave, slicing through flesh and bone before yanking the sword out.

The man gave a small gurgle of surprise before falling to the ground dead; his eyes wide open in a lifeless stare.  Robin could feel the dark anger within him, clawing at him, wanting to be released and to do what was done to him to the guards.  However, he held it in check as he glanced over at Rowan and Bridget who was openly crying now, tears tracking down her face.

“Go,” he said roughly, “get her out of here.”

“We…we came to rescue-“

“Get her,” he shouted, “out of here!!”

“Y-Yes sir,” Rowan looked at him, startled before taking Bridget’s hand and pulled her along.

Robin hurried past them and punched the first guard in the face.  He could hear the distant bells ringing, signaling for more guards and brought his sword up to parry a blow from another guard.  Catching Terence’s gaze as Rowan and Bridget hurried passed him he shook his head, a silent negative.  “Go,” he ordered as he pushed against the parry, “go!”

He could see Terence hesitating to follow his orders, but reluctantly nod and gave him the sign of the cross before hurrying to follow Rowan and Bridget.  It was not Terence who had betrayed him, that comforting thought filled Robin.  A good man with a good soul, he thought as he turned back around and broke the parry, kicking the guard hard in the stomach.  He lifted his blade to strike the killing blow before a body went flying into his own, knocking him to the ground.

His sword fell from his hands as he tried to push the body off him.  Scrambling for his sword, he grasped the pommel when a booted feet stepped on top of it and Robin looked up to see none other than Gisborne staring back down at him, his eyes decidedly cold and ruthless.

“However admirable, we do not want you to leave our company, just yet,” Prince John’s oily voice spoke to his left and he craned his neck around to see the Prince stepping carefully across the bodies of guards and Forrest’s outlaws towards him.

Turning his gaze back to Gisborne he noticed that something had changed in the man.  Something was missing, that made him different.  He remembered Allan saying that Gisborne had a Piece of Eden, so was that what was different about the man?  But it did not look like he had been possessed by the Piece, yet…there was something off about him at the same time.

“We should kill him, right now,” Gisborne said and for a second Robin thought he was referring to him, but then realized that the man was staring behind him and turned his head slightly to see Forrest and some of his men, most of whom were bleeding freely from wounds, glaring at Gisborne.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Prince John circled around them, “we’ll hang them when the time comes, like a celebration of our new border treaty and my coronation.  Or behead them, which ever way is fine.”

“What about him?” this time Robin knew that Gisborne was talking about him.

“Iron box, for now, so he can think of what he’s done and what is to come,” the Prince smiled at his own joke before heading up the stairs.

“There will come a time when you will be judged before God,” Robin said as he was hauled upright by two guards and shuffled off.

“I am sure that will be a long time in the making,” Prince John replied.

                                    *                      *                      *

**CLUN** **VILLAGE**

 

Hideout number ten was actually the old barn in Clun village.  It was took at least a day and half for the others to arrive there and in that time, the villagers had embraced her and Much as one of their own.  She had wondered if the villagers were under the spell of the Piece of Eden like Matthew had claimed when he had urged Robin to return, but saw no evidence of it.  Perhaps it was another lie to lure Robin away from them.  There were more frequent patrols by Prince John’s men, the Sheriff’s own men occasionally accompanying them, and during that time, the villagers had hid her and Much in their own homes as random homes were searched.

Once or twice, they had been closed to being discovered, but some of the more enterprising children in the village had intervened and sent the guards away, annoyed.  She had heard scraps of news from the villagers that the rest of the towns were also suffering like they were, tax collections every day and if one could not pay, a public horsewhipping or beating happened in the village square to set an example.

Occasionally the offending villager had been taken away back to Nottingham to be put in jail there, but it seemed like no one could escape Prince John’s wrath.  She had tried to help the villagers whenever she could, but found herself hiding more frequently as patrols came by.  It was only on the second morning that she found a wanted poster with a slightly crudely drawn image of her face and the words “Nightwatchman” upon the door to the mill and the implications hit her.

She was now a wanted outlaw.  No more a noble, but rather an outlaw.

Her father would be so disappointed in her, she realized.  He had warned her of this day for so long and yet she ignored it time and time again.

And her father!  What would he think of her, abandoning him to try to rescue Robin?  She could hear his voice now, admonishing her for attempting a fool’s errand.  That was what she was, a fool, stupid and too blinded to the fact that something like this was going to happen and leave her incapable of rescuing anyone.

The sudden scrape of Much getting up from where he had been silently whittling new arrows made her turn to see him approaching the barn door, hand on sword and she hastily reached for her own, holding it in front of her.

She watched as Much pressed up close against the door and made several odd hooting noises before she heard the muffled hooting reply back.  Much then opened the door and Marian was surprised to see the rest of the gang spilling into the room before he quickly shut the door again.  Sheathing her sword, she hurried over to them and saw that indeed they were all right, though Little John and Allan looked particularly exhausted.

“Been running all this time…they must have thought Little John’s huge form a bigger threat than anyone else,” Allan pointed a thumb at Little John as he leaned over to catch his breath.

“No one followed you guys?” Much had a hesitant grin on his face.

“Not that we could see,” Will shook his head a negative, “Djaq and I managed to get some information in Nottingham.”

“About Robin?” Marian looked at him, hopeful.

There was a moment’s hesitation on Will’s face as he glanced down at Djaq who bit her lip.  Dread filled Marian and she immediately thought of the worst, but tried to banish the terrible thought from her mind.

“Sheriff’s been having town criers crowing about Robin’s capture,” Will’s expression became pinched, “doesn’t say anything about him being executed, so I think he’s still alive.”

“You think?!” Much wrung his hands together, agitated.  The arrows he had been so meticulous in whittling had been forgotten, cast to the side and scattered by his agitation.

“Listen, if the Sheriff or even Prince John ordered Robin’s death, I think he wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone about that,” Will glared at Robin’s former manservant, “Robin’s still alive.  We have to believe that.”

Marian noted that he left the unspoken fact that there was more than a possibility that while Robin was alive, he was also being tortured.  She was familiar with the fact that Robin kept a lot of the details of his imprisonment in the Holy Lands a secret from her, and even when he had been captured by the deranged assassin Hadiya and tortured, she knew that she had only glimpsed what he had truly gone through.  If anything, the Prince and even the Sheriff would want Robin broken before he was executed.

Prince John was not a happy man; she had gathered that from all of her days in Nottingham’s nobles’ court.  With Robin in his grasp, he would want him humiliated, privately and publicly before having him executed; and the execution would most definitely be public, to make sure the populace was broken and knew that their savior outlaw was no more.

“He is alive,” she spoke up fiercely looking at each of the gang square in the eye.  He saw their nods and hesitant smiles before the nods became a little more confident.  They believed in Robin.

“Any news on Forrest?” Little John asked, his voice gruff.

“Sorry,” Will shook his head, “but we did see a bunch of Prince John’s men escorting several people towards the dungeon areas of the castle.  That place had a lot more guards than what we’re used to.  A lot more vigilant too.  I think the Sheriff replaced his own guards with Prince John’s.”

“They’ve been taking people from Clun and the other villages to Nottingham to set an example,” Marian murmured.

“So, what’s the plan to rescue Robin?” Much put in, undeterred by the grim news.

“That’s the problem,” Djaq chewed the bottom of her lip, “it’s-“

“What do you mean that’s the problem?” Much snorted, “Robin needs to be rescued-“

“The rumor that the King’s returning is true.  All of it,” Djaq overrode Much’s protest, shutting him up, “it was not a lie concocted by the Sheriff or Prince John.  He _is_ returning, but as the prisoner of Duke Leopold V of Austria.”

“Don’t know who that is, but who cares.  Robin needs our help-“

“No, you don’t understand,” Marian cut Allan off, knowing exactly who that man was.  Growing up as the Sheriff’s daughter she knew a majority of the nobility around England and in the continental lands.  She even knew of the court politics that embroiled the continental land and what had truly launched the King’s Crusade to retake Jerusalem.  That was one of the reasons why she and Robin had fought the day before he was to leave for London to join in Richard’s Crusade.

She had never told Robin, but every day since he had gone to join Richard’s Crusade, she had poured over every single scrap of news regarding the major players in the Crusade or even the troop deployments, hoping to read of Robin’s accomplishments or God forbid his death.  She knew that as a minor noble within the English court, Robin would probably not even make the scraps of news she had been hearing about, but nonetheless she hoped.  It was how she had learned of the Duke of Austria and who he was.

If Richard had been captured by him, it would surely be motivated by revenge.  But the why part of it, she did not know.  She looked at the other outlaws, “What did Robin learn?”

“That the Duke was supposedly coming here to negotiate a peace treaty with Prince John and they were to divide up the lands amongst himself and the Prince before the King returned,” Much replied.

“If the King is a prisoner of the Duke, it means that he’ll be forced to sign over his lands and make Prince John King of England or something to that effect,” she speculated, “the Duke may ask for his lands in France.”

“Wait, wait, doesn’t he have an army or something?!  You know the one he went to the Crusades with?” Allan asked.

“If he is a prisoner of the Duke, it means that his army was defeated,” Djaq shook her head, “to even speak of a thing.  Salah al-Din could not even fully defeat King Richard’s army in my lands, but this Duke…”

“So, it’s easy, we go, rescue Robin then he can do his thing and rescue the King from this Duke,” Allan had a hesitant grin on his face before it faltered in wake of Will shaking his head.  “What?” he sounded exasperated.

“We talked to Rowan who tried to rescue Robin, but was unsuccessful after he realized that he had been betrayed.  He has it on good authority that the Duke is about a day and half away by horse from Nottingham coming from Boston to the east,” Will looked grim, “and if he gets to within Nottinghamshire…”

“He’ll have the Prince’s protection,” Marian realized what the young carpenter was saying.  As of this moment, the Duke of Austria was probably traveling without Prince John’s protection since no one supposedly knew that they were meeting to negotiate the treasonous treaty.  As soon as he got within Nottinghamshire’s borders though, he would have the protection of Prince John’s soldiers who were on constant patrol in Sherwood and the outlying villages as they had encountered since they had returned.

“But that’s a day and half ride to the borders!” Much bit his lip but did not even put up much of a protest.

Marian could see that Much and even the others understood the dilemma at the moment.  They could spend the day and half trying to find ways to rescue Robin, but by then, it would be too late for the King who was in the Duke’s clutches.  Even with some of the populace of the shire behind them, they would be no match for the combined armies of the Sheriff, Prince John, and whatever men the Duke brought with him for negotiations.  It would be like facing two battle-hardened armies and a militia force that was used to bullying around the peasantry of Nottingham.

The inconsolable thought of abandoning Robin in the dungeons for several more days just so his beloved King could have a chance in regaining his throne tore Marian apart.  She wanted nothing more than to rescue her future husband, the King be damned, but now she knew an inkling of why Robin acted the way he did when the Sheriff had tried to trick them with a false King Richard.

Richard was the only hope of England right now and to compare him with her beloved, the King, sadly, was more important.  Her only solace was that the Sheriff would not want to execute Robin before presenting him to the King as a traitor and heap all of the blame upon him.  But if there was no King to present Robin before him, then maybe she could ask the King to force the Sheriff and Prince John to release him and pardon him of the supposed crimes he may have been accused of.  It could be her reward for rescuing the King from the Duke of Austria.

“Robin is alive, right?” she looked at Will and Djaq.

“As far as Rowan had last seen him, yes.  He said that there were rumors that Robin was to be presented to the King as an outlaw,” Will’s lips curled in disgust at the mention of the Prince’s plan.

“I think Rowan wants to mount another rescue before…we could help him…” Djaq looked worried.

“John?” she looked up at the big woodsmen, noting that he had stayed silent throughout the whole exchange.  She knew he was a simple man at times, but sometimes, even his wisdom surprised her.

Little John sighed loudly, crossing his arms, “This I do not like.”  He looked thoughtful for a bit before shaking his head, “For the King.”

That was not the answer she had been expecting.  She had secretly hoped that John would say, “We go to Nottingham,” and that would have crumpled her resolve, but the fact that he had said to rescue the King instead of Robin surprised her.  Apparently he was a lot smarter than she had given him credit for.

“I promised Robin I would never betray him again, so, wherever you go, Marian, I’m going,” Allan looked at her, his bright eyes apologetic and full of sorrow.

Marian gave him a hesitant smile, nodding as she forgave him.  Even if he did tell Gisborne that she was the Nightwatchman, she knew that he probably did it under duress.  She had seen and heard from Robin how much Allan loved his lost love Anna and swore fealty to Robin.  It was a promise that she knew the resident con man and thief would never break.

“I don’t like it, but Robin always emphasized that the King was more important than he was, so, yeah, I’m with you,” Will stood up straighter and Djaq nodded her agreement as she looped her arm with Will’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“Much?” she looked towards Robin’s ever faithful former manservant.  If there was a lot of protest to the plan, then here it was.

“Someone’s got to make sure that’s the real King of England we’re rescuing,” Much held back the tears shining in his eyes as he picked up his sword and shield headed towards the barn’s door.

Marian allowed herself a small smile at the attempted joke before following Much, grabbing her weapons and the newly made arrows as the exited the barn, headed to the stables to find horses for their ride.  She sent a mental apology to Robin and prayed to God to keep him safe as she and the gang headed east.

They were going to rescue the King of England.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            No trivial or historical notes to add to the end of this chapter sadly, but I am pleased to say that the plot will be chugging along.  A lot of action coming up in the next chapter.  Oh yeah, Prince John’s characterization is a mishmash of several villainous characters that I admire, but mostly I was hoping to convey his conniving nature.

For those who are wondering about the Gisborne/Marian relationship, let’s just say, Gisborne is very conflicted at the moment even though he doesn’t show it.  Of course, my readers know that I am a loyal Robin/Marian fan, so there is also that to consider.  ^_^  Don’t worry, Gisborne has his role to play in this story and it is a very good role.  I won’t be skimping out on the major characters here.


	5. Return to the Moment - Part 2: Sunder

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Moment

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in early November.  **It is recommended that you read all of the previous stories I have written for _Robin Hood_ (including the crossovers), but _not_ required to enjoy this fanfic.**

**Story:**

_Part 2 – Sunder_

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE** **\- DUNGEONS**

 

The clanging of the chains was loud in Robin’s ears as he grimaced from the deafening sound.  He knew that to any other person, the sound would have been quite normal, but after the hours of harsh silence and sensory deprivation he had experienced, anything he heard or felt made him jump.  He knew he had been severely punished after Bridget’s successful escape.

At first, he did not know what an ‘iron box’ was, but it soon became clear as the guards had dragged him into the lowest levels of the dungeons, sloshing through the rancid waters of the sewers and through several nests of rats and decaying bodies.  They had come upon a simple metal box that looked more like an upright coffin, with three slits at the top of it before placing him inside it and closing it tight.

He had heard the muffled sounds of the guards’ departure before silence descended upon the area.  At first, he had though he heard the squeaks of rats swimming through the sludge, but realized that they were only his imagination and the silence had descended upon him.  The box itself allowed no room for him to move, save just the twitching of his fingers and slight movement of his neck.  Otherwise, he was completely immobile and forced to listen to literally nothing at all.

It had not taken him long to figure out that this type of torture would turn any man insane after a while, especially with nothing to do, but he felt that he was lucky in a way that his wounds still hurt and used that to focus his mind.  The pain kept him sane, but the box did its job on the rest of his senses.  He did not know how long they had kept in the iron box, perhaps days or even weeks; the passage of time had no meaning.

Judging by how his body craved for food, it had to be at least a couple days.  His wounds from his previous torture had already begun to heal, but even the slightest of movements by him, made them stretch and hurt, which meant that they were healing, albeit very slowly.  When the guards had taken him out of the iron box and had thrown him back with the other prisoners, he had all but cried out at the agony of sounds that were too loud to his unused ears, sights that nearly rendered him blind and even the scrape of the hard stone floor tender across his back and wounds.

The guards had dumped him back into his cell, thankfully unchained, and he had spent the next few hours, trying not to curl in upon himself in agony for each sound that was made, grating against his sensitive ears.  Twice he thought he had heard Forrest’s hoarse voice call his name, but each time, it had sounded like a garbled mess and he had just shaken his head before trying to clamp down on his ears to muffle the sound.

It was only hours later, long after the remnants of his meal were crusted upon the plate and bowl they had given him that he felt his hearing return to normal.  Still a bit sensitive at times, especially if one of the prisoners next to his cell slammed into the bars or jangled their chains, but otherwise it was healing.  Apparently the Prince’s guards were well versed in how long it took a prisoner to recover from being put into the iron box as they had appeared and dragged him to a different cell, before chaining him up by his wrists and ankles.  However, they had also let him sit on a bench in a torch lit room that was surprisingly warm and did not really look like a prison cell at all.

Robin wondered what kind of new torture they were to inflict upon him before the door opened and he felt the corners of his lips twitch up in a tired smile.  “Figured they would send you,” he shook his head as the door closed and another chair was dragged in front of him before the person sat down.

“Your time in the iron box didn’t addle your mind,” Gisborne sneered back, “too bad.”

“What do you want Gisborne?” Robin shook his head, pulling at his chains experimentally, “torture me all you want, but I won’t scream, not even for you.”

“I’d rather not dirty my hands in that manner,” Gisborne replied before leaning closer to him, “no, I’m here just to wonder why haven’t you used your Piece of Eden to escape.”

Robin snorted softly, closing his eyes briefly, “You really think I would stoop so low to use one of those… _things_ just to escape?  Do you really think I would have it on me?”

“It is a powerful weapon,” Gisborne replied and Robin opened his eyes and looked straight at the man’s piercing gaze.

“And only someone like you would think of it in such a way,” he said, “only someone who is obsessed with power, someone who doesn’t even care to think who he has hurt or has killed would think of it in such a way.”

Gisborne’s expression betrayed nothing, but Robin could see that his words had affected the man, “Only you, who have tried to kill the King, sent for an assassin to Nottingham could ever think like that.”

“The King is weak,” Gisborne stood up, pushing his chair away, “he wars in the Holy Lands while we are to pay for the lack of security on our borders!  Do you really think that these taxes are for Prince John?!  They’re for your precious King!”

“They are to fill the coffers of the Prince so he can hire an army to supplant his brother!” Robin kicked back his own chair and pulled against his restraints.  “We’ve never even seen a single coin in the Holy Lands!”

“England needs a strong King!  Not someone who decided to abandon it!”

“King Richard never abandoned England!” Robin shouted, anger filling him, “he will return!”

“In chains!” Gisborne sneered.

“Only because you willed it so!” Robin wanted nothing more than to strangle the man in front of him, “only because you supported Prince John the tyrant in his bid to overthrow his brother!  Only because you supported the taxation of the peasantry to the point where _no one_ , not even half of the nobles in the shire and in England can pay for the taxes!  All for what?!  For your own selfish desires?!  For power?!”

“Because it is mine!” Gisborne yelled in his face, “Because I will have what was mine to begin with!  Because I will not be denied!”

“Then was it worth it?!  The sacrifice?!  Seeing half of Sherwood Forest burn?!” he balled his hands into fists in frustration, “was it worth the plans that were put in place?!  Was it worth seeing the anguish on the faces of those you lorded over?”  Robin looked away, hunched over, his energy spent.  “Was it worth seeing innocents die?  The blood of those you did not mean to kill, but the bloodlust over took you?  Seeing the peasants place in jail, only to be executed?  Was it worth…” he bit his lip, staring at nothing in particular, “was it worth seeing Sir Edward die…because _she_ will never know until it is too late?”

Silence reigned in the room and Robin twisted his head slightly to see Gisborne with a bitter expression on his face, staring down at his hands.  Somewhere within him, he realized that his rival, the man that had been sent to kill the King, had not come to torture him, but rather to affirm his faith.  Sir Edward’s death had shaken him to the core, and it was then that Robin realized that in a way, Gisborne did care for Marian’s well-being, even though it was twisted.

“Gisborne,” Robin took a deep breath, “is the power it worth it?”

He watched the man carefully for any signs of remorse, anything to tell him what he was thinking underneath the expressionless mask he wore.  This was the man who had brutally tortured Allan and Will while burning down their winter hideout and part of Sherwood forest.  This was the man who had tried to kill the King and had nearly killed him in the process.  This was the man who had claimed his lands and tried to claim Marian’s hand in marriage, forcing her to take drastic measures.  He would not believe that Gisborne would redeem himself so quickly, but perhaps there was a spark of hope for him…

“It whispers to me,” Gisborne suddenly spoke up before reaching into a pocket and pulled out a small pebble-sized object.  The inhuman and eerie glow made Robin instinctively recoil as he recognized the partial Piece of Eden in Gisborne’s hand.  It was Hadiya’s Piece of Eden that she had carried with her; the one that was lost in the battle outside of Knighton Hall.  “Tells me of the infinite power I could have and how I can achieve it.”

“Gisborne-“

He suddenly closed a fist around the Piece of Eden before stuffing it back into his pocket.  “Prince John and the Sheriff promised me what was to be mine after all of this is over,” the dark look Gisborne gave to him made Robin shake his head.

“Don’t do it,” he could see the spark of hope that was in the man’s eyes slowly fade away, replaced by nothing more than a power-hungry madman, “Gisborne think of what you’re doing!  It’s treasonous!”

“The only treason I see here is you, Locksley,” Gisborne turned and banged a fist on the door which opened after a second, “I make my own path now.”  He left and the door slid shut once more, leaving Robin alone in the cold room.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

The cold of the dungeons did not seep into the blazing warmth of the main hall as Vaysey sat, absently wiping his brow from the heat of the fireplace.  Perhaps it was a little too warm for his tastes, but he would never dare complain as it was the Prince’s prerogative that he wanted it a blazing fire.

“Has Hood been quiet since being put in the iron box?” the Prince inquired after taking a bite out of his dinner and chewing it thoughtfully.

“I believe so,” Vaysey loved the new contraption the Prince had brought with him and told the guards to put it in the lowest floors of the dungeons away from any noise.  It had been designed, the Prince had told him, by specialists he had found who said that the lack of noise and movement would deprive a man of his sensory feeling and overtime go mad if stuck in the box for a long time.

“I do hope he has not been too terribly addled in the mind,” the Prince took another bite before swallowing and sipping on his wine.  “My specialists never told me how long a man could be in there without going mad.  Ah, well, if Hood is mad, all the better when my brother arrives.”

“I’ve received word from a scout that the Duke has landed in Boston and is making his way here with his entourage,” Vaysey absently ate a grape, having long finished his meal before his Prince did, though he could not leave the table until Prince John decided he was finished eating.

“Excellent, good, good,” the Prince picked at a chicken leg before nibbling on it, “did your scout say anything as to how many of my brother’s soldiers accompanied him?”

“No Your Grace,” Vaysey, “but he did say that they were small in number, perhaps no more than ten, maybe even less than that.”

His Prince made a noise of agreement with his mouthful of the chicken leg, before swallowing and cleared his throat.  “That should make my elite guard’s job a lot easier to execute them.”

“Milord, perhaps-“

“They are my brother’s Private Guard, no doubt, loyal to the end to him and would even die for him, as evident by what you told me about the failed assassinating attempt by Gisborne when I told you to send him to the Holy Lands,” Prince John pinned him with a steely look, “they will be executed before anything else.”

“As you wish,” Vaysey agreed.

“Now,” the Prince snapped off a part of the chicken leg he was eating from the thigh bone, “about Gisborne…”

“Milord, I assure you, his loyalties-“

“Are to be commended,” the Prince smiled slightly, taking another sip from his wine cup, “even though he did not apprehend Hood’s outlaws, he still captured many of his confederates.  I would have liked Hood’s own men in my dungeons right now, but I will settle for them scattered across the shire, hiding like dirty rats.”

“…Is that wise Milord?” Vaysey asked, hesitant.

“My dear Sheriff, do you really think that with such chaos and disarray in the shire that Hood’s men would actually organize enough for a rescue of their leader?  I do think you are overestimating their chances,” the Prince scoffed.

“It is not that, sire, but what if they were to go after the Duke and his entourage?” Vaysey asked.

The Prince slammed his wine cup down onto the table and glared at him, “Then they will break and scatter.  The Duke’s men are highly trained soldiers, some even fresh from the Crusades themselves.  I would think rabble such as them would be highly untrained to take on battle-hardened soldiers, don’t you think, Vaysey?”

“Y-Yes, milord.  My apologies for ever doubting you,” he bowed his head slightly.

“Forgiven, this time,” the Prince easily replied, “you do have to stop this habit of doubting me, Sheriff.  Do you not have faith and confidence in my plans?  That unlimited and incredible power will be yours in a few days?”

“I have faith,” Vaysey smiled, “I have no doubt that the plan will succeed.”

“Good,” Prince John lifted his cup and toasted him, “to the downfall of King Richard and the rise of a new era.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTSIDE NOTTINGHAMSHIRE’S BORDERS**

 

Will had ran back quickly, slightly out of breath, but nonetheless a determined expression his face as he nodded in confirmation that the Duke of Austria and his entourage were on the road that they had chosen as their ambush spot.  Marian had only given the barest of nods as she nervously strung up her bow and waited with the others in a row behind an overturned cart that they used as a makeshift roadblock.  She did not know much about planning an ambush, but was happy instead to let Much and the others plan it.

It was only the five of them against an unknown number of forces that Leopold had with him, but she hoped that their trap was enough to whittle away at that number.  The other thing they were counting on was that their ambush would provide enough of a distraction for the King and whatever forces were with him, even if it was just the King himself, to help fight off the Duke.  Will had not time to count how many men were in the Duke’s entourage, but he said that they were all well armed.

Their horses had been left to the sides to graze in whatever they could find amongst the frosty hard ground except for two horses that stood by Allan and Djaq on opposite sides of each other on the road.  Those two horses were one of the keys to their plan and Allan had been entrusted with planning that part of the plan.  The only thing Marian really knew about an ambush was that if nobles were being escorted, they would be in the middle, surrounded by guards on all sides.  She hoped that this was the case of the Duke protecting the King so that no one would ‘steal’ him in case of an ambush.

“Well gents, it’s been real,” Allan muttered as they heard the distant sounds of multiple hooves trampling all over the road followed by the sounds of some wheel carts being dragged along.

Marian’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the sheer amount of red-white-red banners and tunics with the colors of the Duke of Austria coming their way.  However, her panic faded slightly as she recognized that a few of the red-white-red tunics were those of household servants and squires that had accompanied the Duke on his way over.

“That’s…a lot of soldiers left,” Much must have realized the same thing, but his voice still wavered a bit.

“Remember, we just want to scare the Duke away and make sure the King gets free.  Don’t even think about killing him if you don’t have to,” she put as much confidence in her voice as possible, marveling at how easy it was for Robin to do it.  “We don’t need to add regicide on our list…”

They all pulled their bows taunt as the lead riders came into view and the whole entourage slowed down behind them.  She could clearly see the puzzled expressions on most of their faces and a spark of hope filled her as she recognized King Richard sitting on top of his horse in the middle front of the group, surrounded by at least five Crusaders, all whom wore weapons.  Just as she had hoped, the small group was surrounded by the Duke’s own guards, penning them in with their show of force and wicked looking spears that they carried.  Behind them was a horse and cart, carrying what looked like supplies a few priests dressed in white robes surrounding the cart.

“What is this?” the harshly guttural English grated on Marian’s ears and she almost wasn’t able to understand it as one of the soldiers rode towards them sneering down towards them, “get out of here, you peasants!”

“No,” Marian glared up at the rider, moving her bow ever so slightly, not pointed at the rider, but rather at his horse.  “We are here to rescue King Richard.”

The soldier looked surprised before wheeling his horse around and walked it back towards another man who was dressed in armor, but a lot more ornate than the soldiers surrounding him.  That had to be the Duke, Marian supposed as she watched the Duke’s expression turn from anger to mild surprise back to utter incomprehension as the soldier spoke to him in hushed whispers.

The Duke abruptly waved the soldier away before taking a few steps forward on his horse towards them.  “In my country, you would have been immediately shot,” he growled down to them, “you think, little girl, that the six of you could defeat my men and I?”

“Not just the six of us,” Allan suddenly spoke up, defiant anger in his voice, “haven’t you heard?  We are Robin Hood.”

As they were setting their trap for the Duke of Austria, Much had told them what he had known about the Duke, including mentioning about how he had stayed behind during the siege of Acre only to try to claim his banner next to King Richard and King Phillip’s.  Much said that it had been Robin who had alerted the King of the attempted glory coup and had thrown down the Duke’s banner on the King’s orders, making sure that he knew who it was who did such a thing.

“You may even know him as my future husband, Robin of Locksley,” Marian finished loudly making sure that everyone, including King Richard and his soldiers who had been staring at them with interested looks, heard her statement.  She saw the spark of recognition in the Duke’s eyes followed swiftly by his lips curling in fury before he raised his arm-

“Now!” Marian screamed as she fired her arrow into the flank of one of the horses, making the creature whinny and rear into the air, upending its rider.  The other outlaws also fired at the same time just as Allan and Djaq sent their horses down the edges of the road in a straight line.

Marian didn’t waste time by looking back as she turned and ran towards another overturned cart that was behind them.  She felt arrows whizzing by her and instinctively ducked and weaved as she and the others ran towards their secondary positions.  The cries of men behind her told her that their initial plan had worked and she hoped that the King had realized what was going on and used the distraction to his advantage.

A startled cry near her made her turn to see Djaq tumble to the ground, taking an arrow to her back.  “Djaq!” she shouted just as she saw Will slow down and hurry back to the Saracen woman’s side, axes drawn, bow abandoned.

“Stick with the plan!” Little John’s gruff voice forced her to continue as she leapt over the cart and rolled to the ground, her free hand groping for the rope that would activate their second trap.  She took a second to peek out from the cart to see horses charging at them, and beyond them, chaos in the back with soldiers shooting towards the sides of the road where rows up on rows of arrows had been drawn taunt upon bows hidden along the sides of the roads.  All fired from their bows as the horses they had tied rope to passed by them, catching those in the middle of the road in a deadly hail of crossfire.

“Marian!  Today?!” Allan’s worried shout brought her back to her task as she yanked on the rope, activating their second trap as sharpened branches popped out of the leafy-frost covered ground, all pointed towards the riders and caught the lot of them unawares.

They tumbled from their horses as Much, of all people, burst out from where he had been hiding behind a tree with a war cry and held his sword high in the air.  Marian could feel the adrenaline rushing through her as she also discarded her bow and drew out her sword and joined him as they charged towards the fallen soldiers who were picking themselves back up.

“For Robin and for King Richard!!” Much shouted as Little John and Allan followed behind them, spurred on by his acts.

She met the first fallen soldier by kicking him swiftly in the head, his helmet knocked away as he had fallen from his horse.  The soldier fell back to the ground, knocked unconscious before Marian twirled around and brought her sword up in a low parry from another attacking guard.  A part of her realized that this was her first true battle, against men who wanted to kill her.  The Sheriff, Gisborne, that lot of Nottingham guards had always tried to capture her and she was able to escape easily without readily harming anyone.

This was her first battle and she realized that she may have to kill the men attacking her…

“Come and meet your death, little girl,” the soldier she had been fighting sneered at her and Marian frowned.

“I’m not a little girl,” she shot back before breaking the parry and attacked.  She gripped her longsword with both hands and swung in a wide arc, the soldier ducking underneath her blow before following it with an angled chop towards the man’s shoulder.  He blocked with his sword and pushed against it, but Marian held firm.  Her father had taught her martial combat, having served in the armies of the previous King of England, Henry II, though as far as she knew, not against Henry’s son, Richard.

Drawing in a quick breath she blocked again, this time high and pushed her blade towards the soldier, surprising him with her agility and at the last second, suddenly swung her pommel and elbow into the man’s jaw, sending him reeling.  Backing away, she allowed herself a slightly victorious smile before the crunching of boots against the leaf covered frosty ground made her turn and back away as another soldier attacked her.

She turned slightly to see the solider that she had been fighting previously engaged now in combat with one of Richard’s own men who punched the soldier in the face a couple of times before viciously hacking a large slash across the man’s chainmail, sending a spray of blood into the air as the soldier fell to the ground, dead.

“Marian!” the call of her name made her look back to see the soldier that had tried to attack her getting back up and she refocused herself on her current opponent.  However did Robin or any of his gang fight in these conditions she could not fathom.  She was used to engaging multiple opponents as the Nightwatchman, but then again, it was because they were not battle-hardened soldiers, and mostly just the Sheriff’s guards or even thieves that tried to prey upon her.

She blocked two quick blows before retaliating of her own, grunting in the effort it took to push against this current opponent.  He was very strong and the broadsword he held was beginning to overpower her longsword.  Suddenly the man choked, spitting out flecks of blood from his mouth as the tip of another sword appeared in the middle of his chest before the sword disappeared and Marian leapt out of the way as he fell to the ground, dead.

She could not contain the horror that she felt as she stared dumbly at the body before looking up at the Crusader who had killed him.  He had a weathered face, much older than her, though perhaps a bit younger than her own father.  She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to the brutality that she had just witnessed before the Crusader just turned around and engaged another one of the Duke’s guards in battle.

Marian suddenly found herself knocked to the ground and her longsword clattered out of her cold hands as she turned slightly to push the body that had fallen upon her.  The body moved a bit and she realized that one of the Duke’s guards had tried to ambush her so she reacted the only way she knew how and kicked the other soldier.  She half succeeded before a shadow crossed her vision and she looked up to see another one of the Duke’s guards leering down at her, his sword glistening in the faint sun.

Marian opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound came out.  Was this how she was meant to die?  The thought raced across her mind as she saw the sword lift slightly, ready to plunge into her.  It couldn’t end this way, she could not die by the hands of some foreigner who tried to ruin her homeland with a power grab.  She wanted to die, old, with her family surrounded by her, with Robin by her side…

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she saw the sword start its descent-

Only to be halted abruptly by a white-robed figure who leapt upon the soldier’s back, plunging a small blade in his left bracer into the soldier’s neck, blood spurting out of the wound as the two of them tumbled to the ground beside her.  Marian felt her mouth fall open in surprise as she immediately recognized her white-robed savior.  Small throwing knives lined his belt across his waist and strapped to his back was simple short blade, but with an ornate looking handle.

His hood cast a shadow across the top half of his face, as she had seen him with it so many times, but there was no mistaking the glittering darkness in his eyes, the ruthless intensity and swift passage of his blade, hidden in his left bracer.  The only difference this time was instead of wearing all-black attire, he was dressed in white robes with a red sash, made to blend in with the priests that Duke Leopold V had brought along with him to show Church support of the traitorous agreement between him and Prince John.

“A-Altaїr,” Marian whispered, remembering the name of the assassin that had arrived under mysterious circumstances in the late summer only to disappear just as fast as soon as he had arrived.

The white-robed assassin did not reply as he pulled his hidden blade out of the dead soldier’s neck and immediately stabbed the soldier that had knocked her over swiftly in the head.  Pulling his blade out again, he shot her a quick look with an expression that she couldn’t quite understand, but it looked like…relief?  She opened her mouth once more to say something, but he turned away from her and drew out his longsword, a less curved version of Robin’s Saracen scimitar, before charging into the fray, leaving Marian where she was.

Seconds later, the Duke’s frantic voice rang out in the woods, as she pushed herself up to her elbows and saw him waving his blade high in the air.  “Retreat!  Retreat!” he shouted before spurring his horse in the direction further towards Nottingham, his guards scrambling to follow him, including those who were horseless.

“Victory!” the booming voice of King Richard shouted and she turned her head to see him standing on top of a fallen cart, sword held high in the air, his breath coming out in misty puffs as he watched the Duke and whatever was left of his guard run away from them.

The cheers of others rang in the forest and she slowly stood up, feeling soreness spread from her right leg up to her arm where she had been roughly knocked down into the hard frosty ground.  Relief filled her as she looked around her to see that the rest of the gang had survived, relatively unscathed.  Will was helping Djaq walk, the arrow that had hit her in the initial fray still in her back, but she didn’t seem discomforted by it, which meant it was not too serious of a wound.

“Much!” a boisterous voice called out and Marian turned her head to see a fair-haired man with sharp blue eyes walking over to them, messily cleaning his broadsword before sheathing it, “Still alive after all this?!”

“No, I am quite dead and hallucinating!” Marian glanced back at Much who had a sour look on his face as he sheathed his sword and picked up his shield that had been knocked away during battle.

“I told you to stay away from those mushrooms,” the fair-haired man stopped in front of them before bowing slightly to Marian, “you must be Lady Marian.”

“Yes,” Marian blinked, puzzled, wondering how did he know his name, “and you are…?”

“Captain Carter of Tulane, Knight Templar,” he introduced himself and she stiffened slightly at the mention of his Order.  Based on what she knew, the Knight Templars were-

She looked towards where Altaїr was, searching for something amongst the bodies of the Duke’s fallen guards.  Turning back, she opened her mouth to ask which faction of Knight Templar he belonged to before Carter had noticed where her gaze went and turned slightly, an expression she couldn’t identify on his face.

“You just decided to show up, didn’t you, Assassin?  Hiding all of this time when you could have helped us escape,” Carter said in a loud voice, bringing all movement from Altaїr to a halt as he looked up from his search to glare at Carter.

“I was not trying to help you, Templar,” Altaїr shot back, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion.  “You are not my concern-“

“And letting Leopold take us to Prince John for ransom is?!”

“I do not care for whatever happens to you.  My mission is to eliminate the current head of the Templar Order,” the white-robed assassin looked pointedly at Carter, “someone you should know very well.”

“Wait, I don’t mean to be funny, but are you saying that the Duke,” Allan chimed in, pointing down the road where the Duke had fled with what was left of his guard with him, “is a Templar?!  Like Hadiya and her folk, the Piece of Eden and all that?”

“He is the current head of the Templar Order.”

“What do you know about the Piece of Eden?” Both Carter and Altaїr spoke at the same time making Marian, Allan, and the rest of the gang that had come over to them stare back and forth at the two.

Surprisingly it was Much who answered, “Oh I get it now.”

“Much?” Marian looked at Robin’s former manservant curiously, as did the others.

“You,” Much pointed to Altaїr, “it’s all because of your war with the Templars isn’t it?”

“Tread lightly-“

“Just because I don’t speak Arabic, doesn’t mean I understand some of what you and Robin were talking about back in the Holy Lands and in Masyaf.  I mean, it makes sense now, why Prince John’s doing all of this, capturing Robin and terrorizing the populace-“

“Wait, Robin was captured?!” Carter cut Much off, stepping forward, his eyes flashing dangerously, “what happened?”

Much recoiled from the intensity of Carter’s gaze and to Marian’s surprise the same intensity was in Altaїr’s gaze and posture, evident as the white-robed assassin had taken a step forward almost at the same time as Carter.  She had not quite believed that the assassin was a friend of Robin’s, but now, seeing his concern mirrored in his body language, she couldn’t help but realize that maybe she had been wrong about the assassin.

“Uh,” Much opened his mouth, gaping as he tried to find his words before the jangle of chainmail made him stiffen even more and look beyond them, his bright blue eyes wide with shock.

Marian and the others followed his gaze to see King Richard approaching them, the rest of the guard that was with him following behind them, looking warily out towards the rest of the woods.  Marian immediately knelt down, bowing her head as the King stopped before them.  “Your Majesty,” she murmured as out of the corner of her eye she saw Carter do the same.  However, Altaїr did no such thing and instead, stood to the side, his hands folded across his chest, the top half of his face hidden once again underneath his hood.

“Rise,” his English was heavily accented, but Marian understood his command did so, but instead of keeping her gaze towards the ground as a sign of respect, she met his own.  She wanted him to see that she was no mere noblewoman who fought to free him, but rather she had sacrificed her father and her beloved just for his sake.

“ _I am Marian, daughter of the former Sheriff of Nottingham, Edward Fitzwalter_ ,” she introduced herself, the French language coming a bit stiffly to her lips as she had not used it in a long time.

“Wait, why is she talking in French?  I thought the French were our enemies?” she heard Will whisper behind her.

“ _You lead these band of…peasants?_ ” the King stared at her shrewdly, but did not comment on the disrespectfulness of her meeting his eyes.

“ _Outlaws_ ,” she corrected him, “ _these are Robin Hood’s men._ ”

“ _A Saracen woman amongst them?_ ” the King asked.

“ _Djaq was to be sold into slavery, but Robin rescued her from her captors.  She has stayed to free Nottinghamshire of the corruption that is Sheriff Vaysey and your brother, Prince John_ ,” Marian replied as guards around the King stiffened at her slight against Prince John.

“ _A bold accusation_ ,” the King stared at her, his eyes narrowed, “ _what gives you the right to make such an accusation and why should we believe you to be who you claim to be?_ ”

“ _Because Robin Hood was your former Captain, Robin of Locksley_ ,” Marian replied before gesturing back to Much, “ _his manservant, whom you may not remember, Much, served along side him during your Crusades._ ”  She pointed at Carter, “ _I also believe this man recognized Much._ ”

She saw the King turned to Carter and whisper something to him to which the blond-haired Templar replied with a curt nod and a couple of words whispered back.  The King made a small noise that sounded like agreement before turning back to Marian.  “ _Captain Tulane has confirmed your words.  Tell us, Maiden Fitzwalter, where is Captain Locksley?_ ”

“ _Captured, milord_ ,” Marian refused to let the anguish she was feeling show on her face and instead held a firm grip on her tone and voice, “ _by Prince John and the Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _.  I believe my father has also been imprisoned by them._ ”  The third raider campsite held no evidence of her father being there, which meant that the Sheriff probably had her father in the dungeons of Nottingham castle itself.  “ _He had us go forth to find my father who had been captured in a raider attack while he returned to_ _Nottingham_ _to stop the Prince and Sheriff from terrorizing the local populace._ ”

“ _Terrorizing?_ ”

Marian steeled herself before looking square at the King in the eye.  She did not know the full story behind the Pieces of Eden and had thought most of it was a wild tale.  Even she did not believe much of what Robin had told her about its supposed mystical powers that it held and she still wasn’t sure what she had seen that night that Hadiya’s assassins had attacked her home.  So to speak of it to the King seemed utterly ridiculous and would make him perceive her as a madwoman.

“ _For over four years since my father lost his position as the Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _and Prince John installed the current Sheriff, he has been taxing the populace of Nottinghamshire to death.  It is not a figurative death, but literal one.  Many of your loyal subjects have been killed on his account to fill his coffers with gold, silver, anything he could have that was worth coin._

“ _When Robin returned from the Holy Lands, it was he who had brought hope to us, to the peasantry and to the nobility; he who stood up against the Sheriff and Prince John’s ways.  He championed his fellow man’s cause to stop evil men like them from taking everything away from someone just because they had no more crops, no more livestock, nothing left to pay the harsh taxes._ ”

“ _The nobles had their guards-_ “

“ _Prince John made sure that they were either executed or sitting in dungeons across the land for even saying a word against his policies_ ,” Marian shot back before muttering, “ _and whatever able-bodied man that was willing to fight was taken to the Holy Lands, to serve for honor and glory._ ”

Silence reigned in the clearing after her outburst and in that moment Marian wondered if she had gone too far.  Her father had always chastised her for her sharp tongue and she even had her hair cut off for it.  Still staring at the King she saw that his expression was unreadable, but the rest of his guard behind him looked absolutely furious yet chagrined at the same time.  A couple of them in particular looked like they could have been from the peasantry.  They _were_ from the peasantry, she realized, either sent or had gone willingly to the Holy Lands to serve for honor and glory.

The King suddenly cleared his throat and she jumped a bit at the sound, “ _Is Prince John still in_ _Nottingham_ _?  Duke Leopold led us to believe he was there._ ”

“ _As far as we know, yes_ ,” Marian replied, “ _his guards have overrun the city-_ “

He waved her comment off before turning slightly to one of the guards behind him, a weathered man who had salt and pepper colored hair.  His lined face showed that he was old, but not so old to be part of the guard that protected the King.  She realized that he was the Crusader who had initially saved her during the battle.  “ _Tomas, prepare the horses.  We ride to_ _Nottingham_ _._ ”

“ _Milord, I do not think that is a good idea_ ,” Carter was quick to jump in, shaking his head.

“I think it is an excellent idea,” Altaїr stepped forward, his accented English boldly interrupting the conversation.

“Master Assassin,” the King bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment of Altaїr, his English barely understandable, “it is unexpected to see you here.  I thank you for taking in Captain Locksley for his recovery.”

Marian was treated to the sight of Altaїr bowing his head towards the King, but not a submissive one, rather, as if he was equal to the King himself.  She wondered what had led to such mutual respect between the assassin and the King in the Holy Lands.  Then again, she wondered if Altaїr was a Muslim or perhaps even a Saracen.  His skin was darker than hers, but a lighter shade than Djaq’s.

“ _Milord, we cannot guarantee your safety should you go to Nottingham_ ,” Carter shook his head.

“ _I agree with Captain Tulane_ ,” Marian chimed in, “ _Nottingham_ _has been overrun by Prince John’s own soldiers and guards._ ”  She did not understand what mission Altaїr had in Nottingham, but at the moment, she didn’t quite care about that.  Robin had said that the King was important and should be kept safe, so she was going to do that, even though she knew that if the King went to Nottingham, there was a chance that perhaps she could ask a reward from him to release Robin from the dungeons on his orders.

The King however, shook his head, “ _I have my most loyal Private Guard with me, your services Captain Tulane, the Master Assassin himself, and Captain Locksley’s outlaws who have successfully driven the Duke and his forces away from here.  I will be protected._ ”

“ _Your Majesty-_ “

“ _And we believe that you would like to ask the reward for saving our life to save the life of your beloved, is that correct?_ ” King Richard cut her off gently with a knowing look and Marian felt the heat rushing to her face as she looked away from him and down towards the ground.  The unspoken, ‘I thought so,’ hung in the air between them before the King drew himself up.  “We ride to Nottingham,” he declared in English and she heard the cheers of the gang behind her even though they probably did not understand at least a majority of that exchange.

Marian could only allow a hopeful smile to fill her face.  Even though she knew Robin would chide her and the rest of the gang for not making sure the King went straight to London, she knew it was the best course of action.  In Nottingham, the King could deal with his brother and at the same time they could rescue her father and Robin.

In a way, she had begun to realize why Robin was so devoted to the King.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE** **– DUNGEONS**

 

Robin did not know how much time had passed since he had been taken back to his cell after talking with Gisborne, but it must have been some time since he felt his hearing return to normal.  But the clanging of keys was still harsh against his ears as he was jolted awake by the jailer making his rounds.

“Oy Robin,” Forrest’s hissed whisper made him turn in his makeshift cot, mostly a slab of stone with barely enough hay to make a pillow of sorts, to see the outlaw gesturing for him to come towards him.  Forrest and his men had been placed in the bigger cells next to his own in small groups of twos and threes.

He looked out towards the rest of the cells and heard the jailer’s footsteps fade away before hurrying over to where Forrest had a slightly crooked grin on his face.

“Took you long enough to wake, lavender boy,” the older man whispered, picking up Roy’s old nickname for him.

“Was trying to get my beauty sleep,” Robin shot back good-naturedly, “got to look pretty before being trotted out to see the King.”

“Yeah, well, here’s something pretty for ya,” Forrest took a quick glance behind him and received a quick shake of a head from one of his men before producing what looked like a pointed object, almost like a small chisel of sorts.

“That’s…”

“Took a couple of metal plates the guards gave us and made this,” Forrest looked pleased with himself before handing it over to him between the bars, “here, you take it.”

“Why didn’t you pick your own locks with it?”

“It’s thin metal, probably will break after one use,” the man shrugged, “figured you have the best chance of all of us in getting out of here.”

“But,” Robin crinkled his brows, “there are more of you in your cell-“

“Just take it,” the outlaw’s expression turned a bit sour, “you say you can save the King so why don’t you do it, lavender boy?”

“Why are you doing this?” Robin did not understand why Forrest, after all these months was so willing to help him.  Forrest had broken away from them, had formed his own group of outlaws, yet had enough respect for him, or perhaps it was for Little John, his former leader, to stay away from the heart of Nottinghamshire.  He had learned that it was Forrest and his men who had distracted Gisborne’s attempted ambush of his men, scattering them, and was captured as a result.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Forrest blinked once before moving away from the bars.

“Then help me understand it!” Robin shook his head in frustration, “why?!”

That made the fellow outlaw turn around and stalk back to him before his hands gripped the bars that separated their cells, “You want to know why?  Because I owed Little John my life and this was the only way I knew how to repay that favor.”

“You don’t see it, do you?  The devotion others have towards you.  Even Little John and Roy were swayed.  I thought you were a noble spouting off virtues that had no right to be there.  So I left.  But John stayed and when words of your deeds started to spread across the shire and even across the country, I realized that maybe, I was wrong,” Forrest glared at him, “Little John saved my life when I was exiled from Nettlestone.  He could have left me at the gallows, but chose to save my life.”

“I hate you,” Forrest’s eyes glittered darkly, “I hated you the moment you stepped into Sherwood and decided that you were going to fight the Sheriff and his guards.  You who knew nothing of what we had suffered these years, of what happened when good men like John were thrown out of their own village.  Of Roy’s thieving and brawling ways that got a man accidentally killed.”

“Most of all, I hated that your pretty little words took John away from our group,” Forrest closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, “that you gave him a purpose.”

“And you?” Robin asked quietly.

“Me?” Forrest backed away from the bars, the crooked smile back on his face, “I’m just a simple man with a simple task.  And you’d better get to yours.”  With that, he suddenly shook the bars hard against his own cell, “Someone come here!  He’s trying to escape!”

Robin snorted slightly at Forrest’s shouts and screams before taking the makeshift lock pick that was given to him and inserted it through the keyhole of his cell door.  He gently worked his way around it as he tuned out Forrest and the rest of his gangs’ agitated shouts.  He could hear the distant thundering feet of guards and the jail keeper’s jangling keys before he felt something pop on his cell door and grinned as it swung open.

He stepped out and immediately sent a balled fist into the stomach of the jail keeper, pushing the air out of the man as he dropped boneless to the ground.  Robin fumbled for the keys before jamming it into Forrest’s cell next to his and wrenched it open.  “Here!” he tossed the man the keys as he ducked beneath the swing of a broadsword and kicked out with his feet towards the guard that had attacked him.

The guard stumbled away and Robin pressed his advantage by grabbing onto the shoulders of the man’s chainmail and sent him forward, making him lose his balance and hit two of his fellow guards before they too tumbled to the ground.

Robin picked up a discarded broadsword and swung in a wide arc, scattering the guards backwards as he advanced.  “Come on,” he growled out, gripping the broadsword with both of his hands and met the first guard who tried to fight him.  He sliced his blade across the man’s chest, sending a splatter of blood to the ground before kicking the man away from him.

He could already feel himself tiring, his arms not quite used to holding a broadsword anymore since his departure from the Holy Lands.  However, the renewed battle cries of Forrest and his men behind him as they charged past him made the guards back away from them, holding their swords warily before they ran up the stairs and out of the dungeons.

“Over here!” one of Forrest’s men shouted and Robin turned to see him gesturing to a weapons rack full of swords, bows, shields, even staffs and pikes of the like.  Robin spotted his curved Saracen bow and sword amongst the pile and quick grabbed his gear before hurrying up the stairs, the others following him.  He would not be denied his chance at freedom this time around.

Together they all charged into the main castle grounds and Robin was shocked to see that a fight had been started in the courtyard.

“There he is!” he heard Rowan shout and grinned as he saw the young man in the courtyard, several others with him, George and Terence included before stringing his bow and shot a few arrows towards some of the guards that were getting too close.

“Robin, hurry!” Forrest shouted, and he ran through the area, dodging blows this way and that and scuffling feet of the other outlaws that held of the guards that were trying to reach him.

He made it into the courtyard and strung up a couple of more arrows before shooting them towards where Forrest and his men were, still by the entrance to the dungeons.  “Forrest!  Come on!” he shouted towards the fellow outlaw who finally felled the guard he was fighting with a slash to the man’s unprotected throat.  “Come on!”

Forrest turned to him and shook his head before engaging in another fight with a guard, barely able to dodge the blows.

“Robin, we have to go!” Rowan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards, towards the fumes and smoke of something that had exploded nearby that was rancid and foul, but Robin tried to shrug Rowan’s grip off of him.

“No!” he realized what Forrest meant to do and shook his head as the fellow outlaw turned to him, his crooked smile still in place.  Something glittered in the air and Robin instinctively reached up to grab it.  Lowering his hand as he was continuously dragged backwards by Rowan, he saw that it was a small knife, a simple looking knife and glanced back up at Forrest who tossed him a casual one handed salute before being knocked to the ground by the guard he had been fighting.

Robin turned away, a well of bitterness filling him as he finally succumbed to Rowan’s urgency and hurried away, passing the gates of the castle and into the town itself as they ran.  He could hear the shouts of guards trying to follow them, but with several explosions that sounded distinctly like black powder going off, their shouts turned into cries of agony.  However, he ignored all of that as he gripped Forrest’s knife, the pain from the cut he had gotten by catching the naked blade echoing the pain he felt within him.

Forrest knew what he had done by giving him the makeshift lock pick and for that, Robin knew that he was the better man in all of this…  The only thing left now was to make good on the freedom he had been granted.

                                    *                      *                      *

Prince John was furious as he stalked through the halls towards the dungeons.  How could this have happened?!  How could a simple outlaw, nay, a simple man outwit his entire contingent of guards and escape?!

“Where is the prisoner?!” he shouted, startling some of his men, but he did not care.  He was beyond caring; his fury so great that he would have hung each of these men if he could.

“H-Here, milord,” one of his guards gestured to a small group of guards holding one man who was bloodied, but smiling a crooked smile.

“Who are you?” he asked his voice deathly quiet.

“Forrest,” the man smiled through broken teeth and blood flowing from a vicious cut across his eyebrow.

“One of Hood’s men?”

“Hah, that noble who calls himself an outlaw, no,” Forrest spat out a wad of blood and Prince John recoiled ever so slightly before wiping his shoulders in case the man’s spittle had hit his robes.

“Hmm,” he stared at the man carefully, “you think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” the outlaw replied, surprising the Prince.  However, his next words sent his fury to new heights, “I know I’m cleverer than you.”

“Sire-“

He held up his hand, stopping one of the guards holding him from speaking before turning back slightly, “Vaysey, give me your dagger…”

“Uh…yes Your Highness,” he could see the tremor of fear in the man’s eyes as he handed him his dagger.  It had a simple hilt, and at first glance the blade was pretty simple, but Prince John knew what kind of blade it was.  A long thin stiletto with four grooves that went the length of the blade…designed for maximum bleeding with little to no chance of healing unless cauterization was the only option; a fine blade in his opinion.

He turned back to the outlaw who was still smiling crookedly before giving him a smile of his own and stabbed him once in the chest before withdrawing the blade just as quickly and stabbed him in the throat.  Pulling the blade out, he saw the man’s smile wiped off of his face as he choked from his bleeding wounds, before the light slowly died from his eyes.

One of his personal guards handed him a cloth and he absently wiped the blood off the blade before handing it back to Vaysey.  “I want him found, Vaysey, and I want him found before Leopold arrives.”

“Y-Yes, Your Highness,” the Sheriff replied.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **TOWN**

 

The sting of catching Forrest’s thrown knife had faded a while ago, replaced by the bitter, sorrowful feeling that he knew he would not see the outlaw ever again in this life.  They would meet in the afterlife, but Forrest’s time on God’s green earth was done, having been called back up to heaven.  Even though he had last sighted the fellow outlaw valiantly fighting the guards, he knew that in the aftermath, Prince John would never allow Forrest or any of his men who had joined in the escape attempt to live.

He stared at the simple blade, hunched over a chair while attempting to ignore the biting pain of his welts being cleaned and bandaged by Bridget.  They had healed poorly, a mild infection setting into the wounds from the dirt of the dungeons, but at least Robin did not feel a fever come upon him.  That would have meant a lot more trouble than what it was worth.

“Almost done, Robin, sorry,” Bridget had sense his discomfort as she dabbed some herbal remedy on his wounds before placing the cool linen of bandages over them.

“He must have been a good man,” Rowan stared at him, sitting a bit away from him, dirt still caking parts of his face and body after his efforts in breaking Robin out of the heavily guarded jail.

“No,” Robin shook his head, “not a good man, an honest one.”  He tilted the blade a little bit, catching the last rays of the sunlight setting into dusky darkness before securing the blade into his other boot.  He would give it to Little John as it was obvious what Forrest had requested without saying so.

“So what now?” Rowan asked, glancing over to the other room where George was tending to the gravely wounded Terence.  Bridget had done all she could with her remedial skills as an herbalist, but they could not risk sending for a physician until they were sure that a physician could be trusted.

“I need to find my gang,” he muttered as Bridget murmured that she was done and he gingerly pulled himself up right instead of hunching forward.  “And seeing that it was you guys who planned my escape, not the gang, it means that they did the right thing and went to save the King.”

“Robin,” Rowan frowned at him, “you can’t say that you aren’t as important-“

“The King is more important than someone like me,” he pinned the young man with a hard gaze, “the King has far more influence to stop this madness and stop his brother, Prince John.  Robin Hood is only but a symbol.  The King, the King is both a symbol and a man that wields authority that transcends my symbol.”

“But Robin-“

“Rowan,” he shook his head, “thank you, for your efforts, but the King is far more important.”

He saw the young man look away, lips pressed into a thin line before shaking his head slightly and turned back to Robin, “You may think the King’s important, but right now, Robin Hood is the most important thing the populace needs.  Not a King whom I’ve never even met.”

“When the King is rescued, I will make sure you meet him,” there Robin had to grin a bit as he rolled his shirt back down and tentatively stretched his arms and neck to test the flexibility of his wounds.  They hurt a lot less and he could literally feel them start to heal through the balm Bridget used or at least dull the pain.

“The port likely for the Duke of Austria to get in is through Boston,” Robin thought for a bit, “probably not Yarmouth or any of the others because that would attract far too much attention.  Boston is small, and has the most direct route to Nottingham.”

“It’s been a few days since Bridget told me she heard all of that from Prince John and the Sheriff and we told Will and Djaq.  How do we know that the others succeeded?” Rowan looked worried.

“It’s about a three to four day ride from Boston to Nottingham, and even that’s to the outside villages like Clun and Treeton,” Robin rested his elbows on his knees and settled his chin on his fingers, thinking.  “Judging by the fact that the Duke of Austria isn’t even here yet and I would think that my men succeeded in delaying or even stopping the Duke’s arrival.”

“So-“

The sudden pounding on the door made Rowan and Robin sit up and look towards the door, eyes narrowed.  Even Bridget who was in the other room trying to heal Terence paused in her work, exchanging worried looks with George.  The pounding didn’t abate, but there was no noise saved for the pounding which made Robin wonder if it wasn’t guards who had found them.

He tentatively grabbed his Saracen curved blade and unsheathed it quietly before approaching the door, standing at one corner before gesturing to Rowan to open the door a crack, just in case it was guards who had found them.  Rowan gave him a slightly dubious look, but Robin just shook his head in what he hoped was a reassuring manner before Rowan cracked open the door.

“Thank God,” from his vantage point, Robin could not see who it was, but the definite feminine, yet frog-like croak of a voice definitely told him that it was not a guard.  “I knew I’d be seeing you laddie.  You told old Beth to look out for any trouble; well, trouble just ran through the front gates of the town like hell was after his horse.  Some rich folk with a lot of soldiers, blood red flag with a white stripe-“

“That’s the Duke,” Robin whispered, resisting the urge to reveal himself and demand answers from the old woman.

“Thank you Beth,” Rowan fumbled around his belt for his coin purse before putting a coin in the old woman’s hand, “we’ll handle it from here.”

“Aye, laddie.  I betcha will.  Don’t forget that old Beth can still conjure up some of the wicked potions if you need anymore distractions!” the old woman laughed, sounding a lot like a horse gasping for air, before he heard her hobbling away and Rowan closed the door, a slight grimacing smile on his face.

“That’s the Duke’s colors,” Robin remembered seeing the banner of the Duke of Austria being hoisted upon their victory in Acre before the King demanded it taken down, citing that the Duke’s own armies had done nothing but sit and watch as their fellow Crusaders fell upon the bloody banisters in their efforts to retake the city.  That part was true, in Robin’s view, as during the battles, he never remembered seeing any of the Duke’s own men join in his and King Phillip’s forces during their sieges.

“Then what about Much…Lady Marian,” Rowan breathed out and Robin glared at him, refusing to let himself believe the worst.  He reached over and grabbed a cloak and threw it upon himself, ignoring the extra weight of cloths on his still healing back before looking at Bridget and George, “we’re heading out.  Stay here.”

“But-“

“I need to see make sure that it is the Duke of Austria and whether or not the King is still his prisoner,” Robin overrode George’s protests.

“Fine,” the man did not look happy, but nonetheless understood that Robin was in charge.

“Rowan, come on,” he gestured for the young man to follow him and together they left the house, being as quiet and inconspicuous as possible as they made their way to the gates of NottinghamCastle.

Already there was a rather large crowd as those who had been in the market place or had been close to hear what had to be Leopold and his men’s charge through the city had told their friends and neighbors.  So it was easy for Robin and Rowan to blend in with the peasantry and slowly make their way to the gates which had been lowered to prevent any of the populace from entering.

Near the front, Robin saw that indeed it was Duke Leopold V of Austria, wheeling his horse around in an agitated manner.  His household guards surrounded him carrying pikes and spears of different designs, all stoic looking, and to Robin’s surprise, a few of them even looked injured, though they tried not to show it.  One even had an arrow through his shoulder.  Squinting, Robin recognized the design of the feathers as one of Much’s own and a rueful smile crept up on his face.

His gang had scared Leopold away and with no sign of King Richard amongst the small armed force that had ridden in, it looked like they had succeeded in their rescue of the King.  “Good Much,” he whispered to himself as saw the Sheriff and Prince John hurrying down the stone steps, the Prince looking a bit flustered.

“Well?” it was hard to make out what the Prince was saying amongst the murmuring of crowds, but then again, he suspected that the Prince wanted it so and thus concentrated his hearing towards the small group.

“You did not tell me there would be outlaws in the forest!” Leopold’s accented English was harsh and almost unintelligible to Robin, but he had heard the guttural Germanic spoken-English before during his time in the HolyLands and so it wasn’t quite as hard for him to translate what was spoken.  “ _Well-trained_ outlaws!”

“You have your guards here, do you not?!”

“They are protecting me!  If you have forgotten, Prince John,” Leopold wheeled his horse around, occasionally making the other guard shrink back as his horse stepped all over the place.

“Yes, well, you said you would be able to bring _him_ with you!” the Prince sneered back.

“I,” the Duke of Austria’s expression soured, “expected your men to protect me when I got to the coast!  Not to Nottinghamshire!”

“It can still be salvaged-“

“And how do you expect it to be?!” Robin knew that the murmur of the crowd around them had gotten louder as he closed his eyes and focused hard.

“I can send word to men in my employ to ambush the outlaws, you said outside of Nottinghamshire’s borders?  I presume along the road to Boston?” the inclusion of the Sheriff’s voice nearly made Robin lose his concentration, but he managed to tune out the tide of loud murmurs around him.

“That pissant of a port?  Yes,” the Duke replied roughly, “and who are you?”

“Sheriff Vaysey, at your service and of the Templars,” he could imagine the sycophantic expression Vaysey wore and could even see in his mind’s eye the man half-bowing to the still agitated Duke.

“And how could your men defeat these…battle-hardened outlaws?” the Duke sounded doubtful.

“They will be recovering and celebrating their good fortune, sire, and my men will be able to ambush them with no problem.  All they need to do is to lead them to Nottinghamshire’s borders and the Prince’s soldiers will be able to reinforce them,” the Sheriff replied.

“Then do so,” the Duke said and Robin opened his eyes, letting his sharpened hearing return to normal and saw the Duke of Austria wave a hand to Vaysey who smiled slightly and gave him a half bow before turning to one of his guards who immediately nodded and headed off.

Robin was surprised that Vaysey had spoken to a mere guard instead of Gisborne, but saw that the man was not even present and wondered where he had gone off to.  Perhaps it was Gisborne who was to lead the ambush.  Glancing back at the Duke who finally got off of his horse and was shouting orders to the rest of his house guards, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd, Rowan quickly following behind him.

As soon as they were free of the large crowd, Robin headed down the main street, carefully avoiding the various guards that were on patrol and probably still looking for him.  He had noticed that neither Prince John nor the Sheriff had spoken to Leopold about his escape.

“Robin, we need to get back to my Aunt’s house-“

“I need to go to Locksley,” he shook his head.

“But-“

“Rowan,” he stopped and turned to the young man, “I can’t let the King nor my gang reach the borders of Nottinghamshire.  If they do, they will be killed and the King will be captured once more.  I don’t know how many of the Private Guard he took with him when he left the Holy Lands, but I can bet that it was a small amount.  That means whoever the Sheriff sends and if they succeed in their plan, they will be horribly outnumbered if they reach the borders.”

“Let me go with you!” Rowan grabbed onto his arm, his voice urgent.

Robin had to smile sadly at his enthusiasm, “I’m sorry I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?!” the young squire looked angry, “I helped you escape!  I did everything you told me to…”

“And I truly appreciate that, I really do,” Robin cut him off gently, “but I need you here for something else.”

“To watch over Terence and George?”

“No, I think their loyalties are already tested enough,” Robin held onto the young man’s shoulder and shook it gently; “I need you to rally the populace in Nottingham and around the other villages.  If I should fail, you will need to lead them against Prince John and the Sheriff.  You will need to save King Richard.”

It was as if something dawned on Rowan before he stared at Robin closely.  “You think you’re going to die, don’t you?”

Robin had to smile bitterly at his young friend’s realization.  “I would much rather live,” he admitted, “but for my King, yes.  If it will save Marian, if it will save this nation, then yes.”

“But…”

“Rowan,” he looked away for a few seconds before turning back to face him, “you have to understand that there’s only one truth in this world and in life itself.  It is that death is certain.  The only choice is how we want to die and how we are remembered for it.”  Robin knew that his moment of truth had come for him when he had accepted the post of Captain of the Private Guard.  He had been willing then and still willing now to give his life for his King.  His King had tried to protect him and even his friends too, but it would seem that fate had other means for him.  He had learned that ever since he had fallen neatly into the trap sprung by the Sheriff and Prince John.

“A lot of people are going to die if the King isn’t saved, right?” and it seemed that Rowan was beginning to understand, finally taking the few steps needed into becoming a man of his own.

“If Prince John has his way, a lot more people will die.  King Phillip may be poised to strike England from France and if King Richard is dead, he will not hesitate to strike, even if the Duke of Austria negotiates peace with England.  It will be war brought back from the Holy Lands…”

“And with most of the Crusaders still in the Holy Lands…England will be defenseless,” Rowan breathed out quietly.

“That is something I do not think Prince John’s even thought about,” Robin replied, but he knew that it was something that the Prince probably was aware of, but chose to ignore it.  It would be like the selfish Prince to only think of himself and of power, using the partial Piece of Eden to get his way and leave nothing for the populace.

“All right then,” Rowan still looked pained, but reluctantly nodded, “then I’ll see you when I do.”

“Stay well, Rowan.  We will meet again,” Robin smiled grimly before letting go of the young man and headed towards one of the nearby stables to ride out of Nottingham.  He needed to warn his gang before they walked into the ambush.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            Some of you may have noticed Marian’s slight lack of ability to fend of the soldiers of Duke Leopold V of Austria.  In the TV show, she displays a lot of martial prowess and the ability to fight rather well, but she did not display the ability that Robin and his men showed – the willingness to kill.  It is from that observation that I concluded that Marian knows how to fight, but doesn’t know how to kill.  Each time she fought, she either disabled or was able to escape from her pursuers as her status as the Nightwatchman.

            Hence what I wrote for her POV – she can fight, but against battle-hardened and even household guard soldiers for the Duke, she can sort of hold her own, but not well.  Household guards, like the Private Guard, are probably well trained to protect their masters, probably more than regular foot solders in the Crusades were.

 

**Historical Notes:**

            Some historical aspects of this fic, back when the Crusades were happening, King Richard did throw down Duke Leopold V’s banners from the area where it was planted amongst his and Phillip’s own.  Leopold commanded the Germanic contingent of the Crusades, representing Henry VI, who had ascended to the throne after Frederick Barbarossa’s drowning.  However, this ended up angering the English since they considered them not even part of the main forces (English and French).  So Richard threw the banner into a ditch and Leopold remembered that incident.

            After Phillip and Leopold left the Holy Lands, Richard was the only one left to command the remaining forces.  When Richard did depart the Holy Lands in Sept. 1192 after signing a treaty with Salah al-Din, he traveled with just a handful of guards with him through Germanic and French lands, knowing that both Phillip and Leopold would want to capture him.  While staying at an inn in Vienna he was either recognized or betrayed, and captured by Leopold who kept him prisoner and wanted a huge ransom for his release.

            From this point on, is where my story diverges from historical aspect and blends both _Assassin Creed’s_ mythos and BBC _Robin Hood’s_ storylines.  Hope you continue to enjoy it!


	6. Return to the Moment - Part 3: Advent

Robin Hood: The Moment of Truth

Return to the Moment

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  _Robin Hood_ belongs to Dominic Minghella, Foz Allan, Tiger Aspect Productions, and BBC One.  _Assassin’s Creed_ belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in early November.  **The conversation near the end of this chapter will reference a lot of the plot lines addressed in _Solace of Silence_ and _The Assassin’s Gift_.  There are additional notes at the end of this chapter to address any confusion.**

**Story:**

_Part 3 – Advent_

 

**LOCKSLEY** **VILLAGE**

 

It was a harried ride to Locksley, but Robin had managed to lose the Prince’s guards somewhere along the North Road by sheer knowledge of the area and was able to double back to Locksley within a few hours.  There was no sign of Gisborne in his village and Robin had noted that there was a lack of guard presence there, a majority of the Sheriff’s guards that had been in his employ replaced by the Prince’s own forces.  They had probably thought that guarding such a village was beneath their capabilities and thus did not really have a presence there.

But the evidence that the village did not go unscathed was still there in the forms of debris and a lot of destruction to some of the houses, gardens, and even chicken coops.  But amidst all of that, Robin was glad to see that his village still prevailed and continued with their lives, refusing to be intimidated by such scare tactics by the Prince’s men.

He managed to slip into his manor without too much trouble and sneaked upstairs during the setting sun when most of the servants were eating in their quarters.  Heading to his room, Robin felt his lips curl in disgust at the evidence of Gisborne’s own stay in what was _his_ bedroom.  Picking his way through the black colored pieces of clothing and thinking that Gisborne really needed a tailor or at least a new wardrobe, he managed to move an end table and knelt down to where the floorboards were.

Looking around and listening for any sounds of Thornton or any of the other servants in the house, he heard nothing save for the muffled sound of joyous laughter or the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchens and pulled off a couple of pieces of the floorboard, exposing a hole where a person usually saw the first floor underneath.

Robin had this secret compartment built in the aftermath of the fire that had taken his parents’ lives from him.  He had built it himself, refusing to allow any of the carpenters, Will’s father Dan included, help him build his master bedroom.  It was his place to keep the things he did not want anyone else to find or see.

And it was where he had put his chainmail and tunic as soon as he had come back from the Crusades.

He could have displayed it as it was his right, but at the time, Robin was done with the bloodshed and did not want any reminders of his time in the Holy Lands.  So he had stuffed it in the place where no one would be able to find it.  He remembered Thornton coming to him after dinner that night wondering where his chaim mail and tunic were and Robin had lied and said that he had bartered it away.  He did not know where Much kept his, but then again, no one would have asked him about it, considering that he had just been a simple servant serving his master in the Holy Lands and thus would not wear any crest of sorts.

Robin gently lifted out the chainmail and tunic staring at the giant blood-red cross that was marred by dirt and stains from its time in battle.  On the upper corners of the tunic, there was a small crest emblazoned with three lions in a straight row down from each other that told what unit he had served in, the mark of the Private Guard.  His own house’s crest was right next to it, telling anyone that he was Locksley.  While most of the nobles that served in the King’s Private Guard had their crests on their tunics along with the King’s, he had been the only one allowed to have his crest next to the King’s, identifying his rank as Captain of the Private Guard.

 Breathing out a quick sigh, he changed into the chainmail, feeling its familiar weight rest upon his whole body before sliding the tunic on and re-strapped his sword belt on.  He would still need his cloak as he rode towards the border of Nottinghamshire and slipped it back on, the rough woolen material covering the somewhat dull silver of chainmail nicely.

Placing the floorboards back where they belonged and moving the end table to its original resting place, Robin grabbed his bow and slung his arrow pack over his shoulder and headed out of the room.  He was about half way down the stairs before he stopped abruptly, seeing Thornton at the foot of the stairs, holding up a candelabra to see who it was.

“I thought it was you, Master Robin,” Thornton smiled slightly as Robin continued down the stairs, thought a lot more slowly, his senses wary in case the older man was being held hostage or forced to confront him.

“Thornton,” he greeted with a small nod.

“Sir Guy hasn’t been back here lately, so when Mary thought she heard movement upstairs, I thought it was just the mice.  But, I’m glad it was you,” Thornton swung the candelabra this way and that to show him that there was no one else in the main room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“

“You never need to apologize to me, Master Robin,” the grandfatherly old servant stepped forward, “I’m just glad that I was able to see you, before, well, you know…”

Robin nodded a bit as he glanced down at what he was wearing.  The bottom half of his tunic and chainmail was peeking through his cloak and he looked back up at Thornton.  “It was hidden, in my room.  The King-“

“Robin,” Thornton cut him off gently, “you needn’t explain anything.  I know you well enough that you probably have something very important to get to and judging by what you’re wearing, it most likely have to involve the rumors that the King is returning.”  He gave him a ghost of a smile, “So go…save your beloved King and know that Locksley will be safe.  Know that the villager’s prayers go with you on your journey.”

Robin nodded before suddenly engulfing him in a tight embrace and released him just as quickly.  “Thank you, my friend,” he could see that his action had once again surprised Thornton, like he had done so many months ago when he had first arrived back in Locksley.  “Rowan of Treeton, Marian’s squire, is gathering the populace in Nottingham should anything happen.”

“I will spread the word,” Thornton smiled before getting a look on his face and he turned slightly to one of the tables in the corner next to the kitchen before handing him a small satchel.  “For you, sire, and a little extra if you do see Much.  I left him a chicken leg in there.”

“Good man,” Robin had to grin at the head of his household’s little joke before taking the satchel.  “See you later, my friend.”

“Be safe, Master Robin,” Thornton called out as he headed out of the door and to the stables to choose another horse, a faster one.  Slinging the small satchel of food onto the back of his chosen steed, he quickly transferred over another small bag of supplies before climbing on and spurred the horse to gallop east, towards the border of Nottinghamshire.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTSKIRTS OF NOTTINGHAMSHIRE**

 

The loud chirp of a bird startled Marian awake as she snapped open her eyes and looked around her.  The same bird chirped loudly once more and she rolled her eyes as she stared up at the leafless trees, covered in fine powder of frost and glared at the bird until it flew away, oblivious to anything else.  That was when the sounds of camp caught her attention as she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around.

It was still early, but clearly the battle-hardened soldiers were used to waking so early as they wandered around the camp that had been set up, most of them sitting by the main fire and eating.  The smell of roasted meat on a spit filled the air and she saw half of a deer being cooked by the main fire.  A part of her realized that since the King was here, it was he who could order the slaying of one of his own beasts.

She peeled back the fur-lined covers that had kept her warm at night as she slept by a smaller secondary fire with the rest of the gang and shivered, the early winter’s air chilling her slightly.

“Something smells good,” Allan murmured sleepily at her feet as he stretched from his bedroll and woke up, rubbing his eyes.

“Venison,” Little John’s gruff voice made her turn to see the large woodsman coming over to their little group, holding a few plates of what looked like some stew and slices of cooked venison.

“Wait, but, I thought the King…oh yeah,” Allan had a sheepish smile on his face as he realized what he was about to say before taking one of the plates and bowls and smiled as he started to eat.

Marian accepted her plate with murmured thanks before looking around some more.  They had made camp off of the road where the initial ambush took place, burying the dead soldiers that had fallen before Djaq offered her services to treat the Crusaders from their injuries.  The King had allowed it and had even told his own physician, Jacques, who had hidden in one of the wagons when the melee started, to aide her in treating his men.

She had learned that the Crusaders surrounding the King were members of his Private Guard, the same unit Robin had belonged to and the middle-aged man Tomas was their leader after Robin had been sent home.  She was even more surprised to learn that Tomas was not even a noble, but rather a peasant from one of the villages near London.  It was only by Robin’s own good grace that Tomas had been promoted to his second-in-command before ultimately taking over for his stead when he returned back to England.  She would have thought a couple of the other surviving Private Guard that was with the King would resent the fact that they were led by a peasant, but it did not seem the case.

The remaining priests who had not fled had said prayers over the graves of the fallen Austrian soldiers before Marian directed them to the nearest abbey where they would find refuge.  They had thanked her before leaving with a cart, supplies, and a couple of horses.  Afterwards, the King decided to set up camp for the night and ordered a fire to be built.  Using the supplies Leopold left behind, they fashioned a tent for the King to rest in or at least give him some privacy.  Marian was surprised to see that the Private Guard had then set up a watch, with one member standing outside the King’s tent, watchful and wary, at all times.

The other members had set up another fire near the main one and that was when Marian and the outlaws got the hint and set up their own fire near the main one, the two groups seemingly willing to trust each other, but only so much.  The oddity to the situation was that Carter had declined to sleep around the fire of the Private Guard but rather stayed near the main one.  Equally odd was Altaїr’s insistence that he sleep near the main fire, but on the opposite side of where Carter was.

She had a feeling that the two did not like each other and distrusted each other.  Much had also seemed not to like Carter, which initially made her worry, but Robin’s former manservant had just told her that it wasn’t the issue of trust, but rather Carter’s personality.  That had confused her greatly and she had asked what Much meant by that, but he had refused to elaborate.

She now watched, absently eating her hearty breakfast, as Robin’s former manservant pass plates of steaming meat and stew around to the others, a smile on his face.  That smile was rare and she couldn’t help but see that Much felt comfortable amongst the Crusaders.  And it seemed that the members of the Private Guard were equally comfortable with him around, having stopped and asked him numerous questions, occasionally laughing after his responses.  More than a few glances were shot towards their way, but it seemed the Guard had readily accepted him back into their fold as if he had never left.

She saw Carter approach the main fire, taking two plates before heading to the King’s tent and ducking inside of it.  The Crusader’s relationship with the King was different, she could tell.  There was something about it that made her think that perhaps Carter was a confidant of the King, even a trusted advisor.  Yet why would someone ranked that high would have the easiest of relationships with the other members of the Private Guard?  It was terribly confusing.

She finished her breakfast quickly before pulling out her own blade to inspect it for any damage or blood still caked on it.  She was sure that she did not end up killing any soldiers from yesterday’s battle, but it still did not hurt to check to status of her blade.  Her father had taught her that a dull blade was a dead blade and to get the best out of her blade, she would have to care for it.

“Here,” Altaїr’s softly accented voice spoke above her and she started in surprise before turning to see the assassin holding out a whetstone.  She had not even heard him approach.

“Thank you,” she accepted the stone, hoping that her surprise did not show, but knowing the assassin, he probably saw her jump.  Altaїr further surprised her by sitting near her by their campfire with a bowl of water, cloth and the bracer undone from his left arm.

She was about to question why he was holding his bracer when he turned it over and she saw a very intricate-looking contraption underneath the ornate looking vambrace.  A thin silvery blade flicked out with a touch of something on the contraption, still caked in dried flecks of blood before the assassin dipped his cloth into the bowl of water and began to scrub the dried blood off.

She had always thought that the assassin had maybe drawn a blade in his hand with fast fingers, but now, it all made sense.  Even without weapons upon him, this was what made him so, a blade concealed in a seemingly benign piece of armor that people wore all the time.  “Interesting…” she murmured, bringing the assassin’s hooded gaze upon her.

She hastily lowered her own, still feeling a bit uncomfortable and shy around the assassin and ran the whetstone across her own blade.  “Nothing, nothing,” she hoped that the assassin would ignore what she was saying.  She glanced sideways at Altaїr and saw him staring at her with an unreadable look before she looked down to where his blade was now half cleaned and noticed something even more puzzling.  The ring finger of his left hand was missing…

“It is a symbol of our dedication to the Creed,” the assassin caught her looking at his hand and splayed his four fingers out, the stump of his ring finger even more pronounced.  “Just like you worship God by chanting prayers and hymns, we have our own way of dedication.”

“You are not a Christian?” she asked, watching as he used the utmost care in cleaning his own blade.  It was hard to reconcile and believe that this was the same man who had saved her yesterday and who had ruthlessly killed Hadiya’s men all those months ago.

“No,” the top half of his face was hidden underneath his hood, but from the tightening of his jaw, she wondered if she had hit a sore subject with him.

“Muslim then?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, “I am neither, Lady Marian.”

“But, your skin…” she trailed off as she foolishly realized her mistake.  She had assumed that just because he had nearly the same skin tone as Djaq, he would be a Muslim.

“The Hashashin serve a greater purpose, that nothing is true and everything is permitted,” Altaїr put the cloth down, his bowl of water now red from all of the blood he had wiped off.

Marian handed him his whetstone back and he ran it delicately across the blade in quick strokes before handing it back to her and buckled the bracer back on.  It was then when he flicked his wrist _just so_ that she saw the thin blade pop out of its holster right where his ring finger used to be.  The purpose of cutting the weakest finger on the hand, yet also one that was believed to be connected to the heart, in order to allow the blade to be hidden so cleverly, was realized.  By cutting off the ring finger, the Assassins were dedicated both within their hearts, minds, and bodies, to their Creed.

She watched as Altaїr tested the sharpness of his blade with his other hand before flicking his wrist again to let the blade slide back into its hiding place.  “I can guess what Robin has done to be captured by the Sheriff this time around,” he stared at her, his dark eyes glittering underneath his hood.

Marian frowned, pursing her lips as she turned back to run the whetstone across her blade.  She did not want to think of Robin in the dungeons, her father still missing somewhere.  She had made her choice and she was going to stand by it.  She expected Altaїr to say something, perhaps even words of meaningless comfort, but the assassin did nothing of the sort and instead let his statement hang there.  It was only after several minutes of silence that she realized he was still there, though now examining the rest of weaponry.

It was as if the clouds had parted in her mind to understand what the assassin was doing.  She had always thought him cold, callous, and distant.  She had never understood why Robin seemed to be friends with someone like him, or why Much even trusted him, or at least somewhat trusted him.  She had thought the assassin was here for his mission and nothing could get in the way of that mission.  Yet he was sitting here, next to her, when he could have just ridden towards Nottingham without the others.

He stayed here when clearly Carter disliked him as evident from the battle yesterday.  And she realized he stayed because he was watching over her in Robin’s stead.  She had not understood the look he had sent her when he killed the soldier that was about to kill her, but she understood now.  It was the look of relief; he protected her because he was Robin’s friend – most definitely an odd friendship she had to imagine, but nonetheless a friend.

A brief hesitant smile flitted across her face before she resumed work on her blade, occasionally leveling it down her sight to make sure she did not miss any nicks or dents.  Beside her, the assassin worked, ever watchful guardian.  She now knew that while Altaїr would always have his mission driving him, to stop Leopold, he would not hesitate to make sure Robin was safe at the same time and would strive to rescue him.

They worked in silence until Marian was just about done with her blade when the clinking of chainmail made her look up to see the blond-haired Crusader, Carter, approaching them.  He had a frown on his face, but dropped it as she looked at him.  She supposed the frown was probably more directed at Altaїr than at her.  “Captain,” she greeted politely, “how fares the King this morning?”

“You can call me Carter, Lady Marian, Captain’s too formal,” the Knight Templar shrugged, “and the King is well.  He requests your presence in his tent if you are not busy?”

“No, no,” Marian blinked in surprise, straightening as she sheathed her sword and handed the whetstone back to Altaїr, “of course, I will see him.”  She stood up, brushing her self down before following Carter to the tent to which he opened a flap for her to step into, but did not go in along with her.  Instead, she glanced back to see him taking over for the guard stationed outside.

Turning back around, she saw that the King was looking over what seemed to be a hastily drawn local map of Sherwood Forest and Nottingham and cleared her throat politely before bowing.  “Your Majesty,” she felt a little sheepish for being so bold yesterday.

The King looked up and nodded his head once before standing up, “ _It pleases us that you have come here.  You do not object to my use of my native tongue?_ ”

“ _No, Your Majesty_ ,” Marian replied, her French a bit stilted.

“ _You may use your common tongue, we do understand most of it_ ,” the King waved at her, “ _we wish you to speak of recent events_.”

She had a feeling the King wanted to know why Robin became an outlaw and took a deep breath, steeling herself for any undue reaction the King may have.  She did not know what kind of relationship the King had with Robin, but suspected that it had to be a good one if not for him to return her beloved here before the Crusade was over.  “My father, Sir Edward Fitzwalter, lost his bid as Sheriff of Nottingham and the shire a little over four years ago, milord.  Prince John accepted Vaysey’s petition as Sheriff.  He began taxing the poor, saying that the money was to be spent in the Crusades-“

“ _This we have already deduced_ ,” the King interrupted her gently and she blinked at him, slightly unnerved.

Opening her mouth she considered her words before jumping ahead, “Robin believed that the poor should not have to beg for scraps of rancid meat, nor die because they could not feed their children.  He believed that the punishments, including tongue cutting just for not knowing where outlaws were, were too harsh; that too much law had disrupted the order and balance of things.  Market Day was affected, no more trading, no laughter in the streets.”

“ _And yet he could not do this as his capacity of Lord of Locksley and Earl of_ _Huntington_ _?_ ” the King asked, curious.

“My father and I told him he should have,” she stared down at the floor, remembering the first words she had spoken to Robin when they were truly alone in the castle after the nobles meeting.  Her heart had been such a myriad of emotions after he had surprised them with an afternoon visit the day before.  She had scarcely believed that he was back from the Crusades, looking a bit world-weary, but relatively hale and healthy.  It was soon after that she had learned that was not the case and saw the terrible wound and scar that had sent him back.

“ _Continue_ ,” the King prompted and Marian started, too absorbed in her thoughts.

“Three of his villagers including the carpenter Will Scarlet to whom you saw fought yesterday with his axes, milord, had been set to hang the day after our meeting,” Marian replied, “there was nothing to be done about it.”

“ _What was their crime?_ ”

“Helping one of the villagers conceal the crime of stealing enough food to feed half of the village of Locksley.  The village had all but nearly starved during the winter-“

“ _Their Lord did not see to the village’s needs?_ ”

“No, sire,” Marian bit her lip; a part of her did not want to say ill of Gisborne, but after the way he had acted towards her in the woods.  He had seemed so cold, so foreign; an eerie darkness that seemed to emanate from him that chilled her.  “Sir Guy of Gisborne had been ill for several months prior, only recovering in mid-winter…”  She trailed off as she mentally counted out the days that Gisborne had not even called upon her or even been at the nobles meetings.  It had started around September of that year, Thornton even telling her that Gisborne had seemed to have gotten a malaise of sorts.  It ended around mid-January of this year…

Robin had never told her when he had gotten the scar, but judging by the shine of the wound and the fact that he stilled seemed a bit cautious with it, it had to be recent.  She did not know how long it took to sail from England to the HolyLands, but her beloved receiving the scar overlapping with the time that Gisborne had been ill, it could not be a coincidence.  Robin had been telling the truth all this time, Gisborne had been to the Holy Land to slay the King.

“ _Lady Marian?_ ” the King sounded a bit irritated and Marian blinked.

“I apologize, milord.  I had a revelation,” she bowed her head.

“ _Do you wish to share it with us?_ ”

“Not until I have further proof, milord,” she would have to ask Altaїr how long it took to travel from the Holy Land to England and then find some hard evidence that Gisborne was lying.  “Like I said, Sir Guy had been ill for several months and did not tend to his peasants’ needs.  The punishment as decreed by your law is a spell in the stocks and Robin requested a pardon for his villagers for their crimes.  The Sheriff denied that request, saying that a message needed to be sent to anyone caught stealing.”

“ _And what if he was correct?  That stealing from those who may have needed the grain more?_ ” the King countered.

“The reserves in the castle have more than enough to feed the population as a whole twice over, milord,” Marian replied, “and it was the boy’s first offense.  My father had warned him not to take action, citing that we needed another noble within the Sheriff’s court to work against him, to overthrow his tyranny.  But he did not listen.”  She shook her head ruefully, “He never listens.  He always did what was right, what he felt was right, consequences be damned.”

“ _And yourself Lady Marian?_ ”

She flicked her gaze upwards and blushed before lowering it, “I believed he was foolish, reckless, learning nothing from his time in the Holy Lands, if not he was even more foolhardy than when he had left.”

“ _Yet here you are_ ,” the King sounded thoughtful.

“Yes,” she felt the ghost of a smile tugging on her lips, “because the Sheriff discovered Robin’s weakness.  I refuse to become that weakness to him so instead of riding to rescue him with his gang, I came here looking for the man that he nearly gave his life for.”

“ _And is this what you wish of us?  To persuade the Sheriff to release him from the dungeons?  To pardon him of his crimes because he is an outlaw, punishable by death?_ ” the King asked.

“Because he has fought in your name to undo the injustices of the land; because of everyone who has returned from the Holy Lands, he was the only one who willingly became that which was punishable by death to make sure that even the lowliest beggar in Nottingham would survive this upcoming winter.  Because he did not want to see anymore needless deaths and the corruption that he had seen take so many in the Holy Lands,” Marian replied, “because I know that if it was not for me, he would return to your side in a heartbeat, because that is where he believes his duties lie.”

The King was silent for a moment and Marian risked a peek up to see him staring thoughtfully at her, his fingers rubbing his white-streaked ginger colored beard.  The King turned his gaze elsewhere before flicking his eyes back to her.  “ _The message we sent when we released him from our services was to return to you_.”

Marian’s eyes shot up to him in shock as she stiffened.  The King specifically said that?!  She did not know whether to feel overjoyed, despair, or even just plain confused.  How the King had such intimate knowledge of them, when she and Robin had not parted on the best terms, yelling at each other before he left the next day…  Yet the King’s statement told her everything.  Robin had thought about her in the Holy Lands and even spoke of her to the King and perhaps the others in the Private Guard.  She finally understood the looks they had shot her when she had introduced herself before the battle yesterday.

And she felt embarrassingly touched.

“ _We will rectify this situation_ ,” the King continued, and this time Marian thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.  “ _Thank you, Lady Fitzwalter for your honesty._ ”

“Y-Your Majesty,” Marian abruptly bowed as she sensed the dismissal before heading out of the tent, feeling a bit bewildered.  She stopped and glanced over to Carter who apparently had a rueful smile on his face, probably having heard the whole thing.  He just shrugged before ducking back into the tent to perhaps talk with the King.

Shaking her head Marian hurried back to the smaller camp and saw that everyone was packing to leave.  She joined them as she glanced back at the King’s tent to see him emerging, barking a few orders in French.  It was easier now, to see why Robin loved the King so and was willing to go to great lengths to ensure his safety, even from afar.

                                    *                      *                      *

**BORDERS OF NOTTINGHAMSHIRE,** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

The jangle of coins thumping against the hoof beats of the guard patrol heading away from him was a welcomed sound to Robin’s ears as he watched the small group head north of what they had been assigned to patrol.  It had taken him some time to find the guard patrol that was supposed to be helping out the raiders in the ambush and some more time to convince them to take the coin he had carried upon him and ignore their orders.

Luckily, they hadn’t noticed his chainmail and tunic under his cloak nor recognized him for who he was, only staring at him as if he the simple guardsman he claimed to be.  After he had left Locksley, he had stopped by one of the gang’s small depots and raided every last coin that was from that stash.  Prince John’s guards were going to need a lot of money in order to give up their orders, but to his surprise there were a few of the Sheriff’s own guards mixed in.  They were all too happy to accept extra coin in supplement to the meager pay that they had probably been getting from the Sheriff.  A little pressure of guilt that they had let the initial raiders ambush Knighton village without their knowledge had consolidated the conviction of the Sheriff’s soldiers.

Convincing the Prince’s own soldiers had not been easy until he had given every single last coin and convinced them that the King was a very good swordsman, known for his battlefield prowess and willingness to sacrifice everything to kill the enemy.  That had put some fear in them and he had added that the raiders who had commissioned them were just thugs who would let them die first and collect all of the coin from the Prince.  That statement had put the anger in them and their leader had instantly snatched up the coins, saying something about not letting the ignorant thugs get the better of him and his men.

As the last guard disappeared around the corner, Robin breathed a quiet sigh of relief and glanced down the other fork in the road, towards where the patrol had told him King Richard was supposed to come from.  He did not know how many men the raiders had, but he still had an ambush to prevent.  Taking a deep breath, the cold morning air chilling his lungs and sending an abrupt shiver down his back, he steeled himself upon his horse and nudged it forward.  He had barely slept the night before and with his still recovering wounds and slightly malnourished body from his imprisonment, he could feel himself fatiguing easily, but refused to give in to the temptations of rest.

His King was still out there in hostile lands and there was no way the Captain of his Guard was leaving him there.

                                    *                      *                      *

**BORDERS OF** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

They were riding rather oddly, the remnants of the Guard surrounding the King from all sides, and the outlaws spread across the whole of the road, a walking pace that did not tax the horses nor did it press upon the urgency of their route.  Marian did not mind the pace, having the time to collect her thoughts after her audience with the King a few hours ago.  The fact that the King wanted to know more about what Robin had been doing since he had returned and that he had implied that he trusted her words without any fear of grandiose stories and whatnot had surprised her.

She had thought him a distant King, one who did not care for his subjects across the lands he ruled preferring to stay in the Norman lands.  He barely spoke their language, preferring his own native tongue.  She had expected him to turn the other way after a night’s rest, insistent upon returning to his own lands and leave the fate of England to his brother John, yet here he was, still headed to Nottingham.

They had broke camp after she had left the King’s tent and headed down the main road west that would lead them directly to Nottingham.  She had cautioned that when they went further towards Nottingham there would be patrols about, though she suspected that they would not dare try attack the King.  But apparently Tomas, the Captain of the Private Guard took no such chances and ordered a perimeter formed around the King as they made their way westward.

The King had taken the opportunity to talk with the rest of the gang and seemed particularly interested in Djaq’s story.  She watched as the two of them talked, the Saracen woman occasionally gesticulating with her hands and the King responding in kind.  Altaїr rode next to her, still a silent sentinel, but it seemed that both the gang and King Richard’s men, with Carter the exception, gave him a respectful distance.  Much had been amusingly enough, shooting odd looks at the assassin, as if he could not decide something about him.

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she noticed Altaїr stiffening and up ahead, Little John who had been at the lead of the group pull his horse to a halt.  They slowed down and the King abruptly stopped his conversation with Djaq to look around.  The Guards became instantly wary, some of them drawing their swords.

“Altaїr?” she asked and he shook his head minutely asking for silence.

“What do you see up ahead, woodsman?” Tomas asked, betraying the uncomfortable feeling he had by not addressing Little John by name.

She saw Altaїr turn in his saddle, the grip on his reigns tightening before he abruptly reached out and grabbed her arm yanking her forward.  Marian was not expecting the move and nearly fell out of her saddle just as the _thunk_ of something embedding itself into the tree trunk that was near her.  She quickly looked back to see that it was an expertly thrown ax before the yells of many men echoed near them.

She turned to see the familiar garbs of raiders charging at them, their animalistic cries filling the air.

“Attack!  We’re under attack!  Protect the King!” Tomas shouted just as arrows filled the air, making the rest of them duck and climb off of their horses for some cover.

Marian slipped off of her saddle and hastily drew out her sword, the chaos of the ambush filling the air.  Of all the places to have a raider ambush…they had to be sent by the Sheriff!  That meant the Duke of Austria had gone to Nottingham and raised the alarm of their ambush just yesterday.  Her horse whickered and danced a bit as she tried to calm it down before meeting the first blade of one of the raiders who screamed at her.

Grimacing, she parried and pushed him away, the sickening stench of his body odor and sweat filling the air.  She kicked with her feet, but he danced out of the way.  Sweeping forward in an uppercut, she caught his blade before abruptly punching the man in the face, making him cry out in pain, clutching his bloody nose before she stabbed him in the stomach.  He fell back, grabbing at both of his wounds before she caught the glint of another blade coming towards her and raised her sword up.

The blow nearly knocked her down as she was pressed up against her horse.  Her horse side-stepped from the force of her impact with it, making her stumble and fall to the ground.  She rolled to the side, barely avoiding the overhead blow and lashed out with her blade, making the raider dance back before he screamed as the tip of a blade protruded from his chest and withdrew just as fast.

The Knight Templar, Carter, stood at the end of the blade before pushing the dying body of the raider aside and reached a hand out to her.  Marian took it and was pulled to her feet before Carter suddenly released her and brought his broadsword up in a guard as two raiders tried to ambush them.  He made no sound other than to throw a wicked grin at their direction before cleaving them both in half with his much broader blade.

She felt a flash of horror at the spray of so much blood and the grin on Carter's face that showed he was _enjoying_ the bloodshed before turning and engaging another raider that had tried to join his friends in the ambush.  This was what Robin had meant when he said that the Holy Lands had changed him and he refused to kill another single soul when he returned to England.  It looked as if the Knight Templar had enjoyed killing the two raiders and she felt disgusted by that display.

Suddenly the shouts of retreat from the raiders made her look up in confusion as she saw them turn and run, fleeing the battlefield.

“On your horses!  After them!” King Richard shouted and Marian looked back and forth between the two of them, her mouth open in amazement.  As far as she knew the raiders never retreated, not even when they had been attacking them at the camp she had been held at.

“Wait!  Wait!  Your Majesty-“ Allan and Much nearly cried out at the same time as the King spurred his horse to go after them before Marian scrambled onto her own, trying to follow the trailing Guards, the rest of the gang hard pressed to catch up.

“It’s a trap!” Will shouted towards the Guards and she saw a couple of them flick looks back at them before urging their horses forward to try to stop their King from walking into the second ambush.

“How do you know it’s a trap?!” she shouted, urging her horse to go faster.

“Because that’s what we did once to one of the nobles on the roads!” Will said loudly over the thundering of hooves, “it’s a clever trick, use one or two of us to draw in the nobles’ own guards.”

“Then run like mad and hope that they follow, which they usually do,” Allan continued, “ambush them with a few well placed arrows-“

“And a lot of reinforcements,” Marian finished as she slowed her horse down, her sword gripped tightly in one hand as they approached the King and the Guards, all of them fanned out in an effort to protect him from the raiders who had stopped.

They had been joined by what looked like a couple of other groups, one of them hefting a very fat bag of coins that clinked and jingled each time it was thrown up and down.  As Marian and the rest of the outlaws, Altaїr included, pulled their horses next to the King’s Guards crunching heavy foliage underneath, she turned around to see a few more raiders closing behind them, penning them in a circle.

Horrible flashes of when Guy and the men he commanded had surrounded her and the gang days ago filled her mind.  But then Forrest had ambushed the ambushers, allowing them to get away at the cost of his own gang’s freedom.  There was no such help this time around; she knew that as well as the others did.  They were truly trapped and with no one else to help them…

“You…must be King Richard…” the leader of the raiders leered at them, his yellow teeth glistening in the early winter’s sun.

“Show some more respect for you King!” Carter shouted, making a move towards the raider before a dozen swords were drawn and several arrows pointed at him.  From her vantage point, Marian saw the King raise a hand and the Knight Templar pull his horse back, his face pinched and angry.

“A very effective trap,” the King’s voice was soft, neutral, “and you know who I am?”

“Only that you are gonna make me and my men very rich when the Sheriff gets a hold of ya,” the leader continued to smile, “oh but I guess I should mention, he just wants you, not your little band of merry guards and most certainly those ragtag misfits back there.”

“Hey-“

“Shut up,” Little John elbowed Allan roughly.

“Oh, hello, little girl, fancy meeting you again,” the leader seemed to notice her and she felt her anger rise.

“Where is my father?!” she demanded, “what did you do with him?!”

“Too bad Earl was too soft not to cut your tongue out when he had ya before he was killed.  This time, I think I’ll do it first-oh you have a priest for a shield?” the leader barked a sarcastic laughter as Altaїr nudged his horse in front of hers.  She could feel the tense anger radiating off of the assassin’s body.

“You have us cornered, what are your terms?” the King directed the leader’s attention back to himself.

“Terms?” the raider leader burst out laughing, “Here he thinks he’s negotiating his surrender!”

There was a nervous twitter of laughter amongst the rest of the raiders, but many of them shuffled uneasily in place.  Marian had a feeling that even though the raiders outnumbered them, it was the icy glares they were all giving to them that bolstered their own confidence and made the raiders nervous.

“No, see, I’ve got orders to bring you in, and let one of the patrols take care of the lot of you.  Hapless Crusaders, ambushed by Robin Hood’s men while on their way home from the Holy Lands,” the leader suddenly whistled, a sharp piercing sound, “Oy!  You lot, get over here!”

Marian looked around, wondering who he was calling for, but no one seemed to appear over any of the road’s bends or even from the wooded areas.  Suddenly there were several strangled screams from the back and all eyes turned to see three raiders in the outer perimeter falling to the ground, an arrow in each of their heads.  She felt the flutter of hope fill her as she glanced around her, towards the hills, anywhere, hoping, praying-

There!

Marian covered her mouth with one of her hands as she felt tears prick the corner of her eyes.  Three more arrows shot down from the crest of the hill to her left, three more bodies falling to the ground dead before they knew what hit them, before all glanced over to where the source was and she felt a grin work its way up her face.  He was safe…he had been freed…he was _here_ …

“Robin,” she whispered his name.

The area around her exploded into chaos.

                                    *                      *                      *

Height always had an advantage and Robin used it to its fullest effect, launching multiple arrows at the circle of raiders who thought they had won by trapping the King, his Guards, and his own gang.  His first three arrows had startled everyone and took advantage of that moments’ hesitation to launch another three, each one of his arrows hitting their mark, piercing their skulls, killing them instantly.  They deserved no mercy for threatening both Marian and his King.

“ _Now!_ ” he shouted, drawing more arrows and firing them, killing several raiders as they charged up the hill to do battle with him.  Beyond their falling bodies that tumbled back down the hill he saw the battle in full earnest as the King and his men leapt off of their horses, using them as cover against the raiders who tried to rally themselves.  He watched as the ground around the raiders explode in a shower of dried leaves as the patrol the raider leader was looking for burst out of their hiding place.

He had just started his horse towards where the raiders were to ambush the king when the patrol he had paid off returned back, their group leader looking guilty.  He had apologized profusely and explained that not all of the Prince’s soldiers that he had brought with him were completely loyal to him.  They were only there because they wanted a semblance of peace and seeing what was happening around Nottinghamshire had put that into perspective.  They had thought they were doing the right thing, but after hearing from the raiders, of all people, that they were to kill the King’s guards and capture their true liege and lord to bring before his brother, that had not sat well with them.

The leader of the patrol had then handed him back the bag of coin he had used to bribe them initially before submitting himself to his authority.  Robin had been skeptical at first, but gave them the benefit of the doubt.  If they were sincere, he reasoned, they would fight for the King against the raiders.

And true to their word, they had responded to his command and now were engaging the raiders, completely throwing the hostile group off balance.  However, there were still more raiders around and Robin narrowed his eyes, scanning the battlefield.  He suddenly pulled himself back against the tree trunk he had been bracing himself against, hearing two small _thunks_ as arrows embedded themselves into the trunk.

Robin peered out again and found the two archers trying to fire their arrows at them and notched his own into his Saracen recurved bow.  He took aim, breathed deeply and released the arrow, the shaft finding and piercing its target.  The first archer fell down with a pained cry before he notched his second one, ducking underneath a shoddily shot arrow before firing it.

The second archer fell to the ground as a war cry echoed near him and Robin hastily avoided a cleaving blow to his head.  However, he lost his precarious footing and tumbled down the hill.  Wincing as several rocks and large branches made their presence known on the leaf-covered ground by digging through his chainmail, he managed to right himself, a bit dizzily and lifted his bow in time to block yet another overhead blow, smashing the wood against the raider’s fingers.

The raider howled in pain before Robin roughly kicked him in the stomach, making him drop to the ground.  He discarded his bow and drew out his curved Saracen sword, twirling it once in his hand to feel its comforting weight.

“Robin!” a familiar voice called his name, but Robin ignored it as he concentrated as the next raider leapt over his fallen comrade who was still groaning and clutching both his crushed fingers and stomach, meeting him with a swipe of his own sword.

The raider leapt back on light feet from his attack before grinning and started in with his longer blade.  In some fights, blade length did have an advantage, but Robin was too well versed, too trained in wielding the shorter curved Saracen blade to be intimidated.  In fact, he knew several techniques to counter longer ones…

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled in warning before he raised his arm in a parry from behind before lunging forward and caught the raider off guard.  Forcing his blade to the side with his wider one, he cut the man down in a short spray of blood before spinning around and sliced through the legs of the one who had tried to ambush him from behind.  The man fell to the ground, grasping at his wounded legs before Robin kicked him in the head, sending him into oblivion.

He turned and charged forward, joining in the fray with a cry of his own.  He hacked at his first opponent, before spinning around his back and jabbed his sword forward, impaling another one.  Pulling the blade out with a sickening squishing sound, he cut through the man’s back, sending him reeling to the ground before parrying an overhead blow.

“You’ll pay for this Hood!” the raider leader glowered at him, trying to force him down with his own sword, but Robin did not buckle under the weight, even though the man was at least a head taller than him.

“I told you that if I see you again, you would meet God sooner than you expected,” he snarled, glaring at the raider leader.

“You first,” the man shot back before spitting at him.

Robin turned his face to let the spittle hit his cheek harmlessly before pushing off against the man’s guard, refusing to be baited by such petty tricks.  He let his forward momentum hit the guard full force with his left shoulder, throwing him away from him before readjusting the grip he had on his sword and stalked forward.  He could see Will’s axes flashing this way and that as he disabled and defeated the raiders attacking him and Djaq, the two of them fighting back to back.  He recognized Carter’s shouts of delight mingled with the roar of the lion that was King Richard.  Tomas’ calm voice shouting commands to rally the other members of the Guard and even some of the men that used to be loyal to Prince John, echoed, but all of that was just a filter as he focused on his opponent.

He allowed the raider leader to get to his feet before a grim smile formed on his face and he gestured with his blade for the man to come and get him.  The raider leader obliged his wish and ran at him, his own blade held out as if to spear him.  Robin easily side-stepped the attempted attack, and sliced at the raider leader, scoring a shallow cut on the man’s arm.  He retaliated with several blows and Robin blocked them easily before going on the offensive.  He had learned and adjusted his own swordplay when he had been recovering in the fortress of the Hashashins of Masyaf after receiving the near-fatal wound from Gisborne.

Evading the most vicious sideswipe yet, Robin suddenly lashed out with a foot at the side of the man’s left knee, breaking it in a messy crunching sound.  The raider leader fell and he wasted no time by quickly kicking the man’s blade away from him and holding his sword at the raider leader’s throat.

“P-Please…” the larger man pleaded, coughing up flecks of blood, but Robin was not feeling charitable.

“Will may have spared you, but I am not as compassionate as he.  You attacked the King, you attacked my future wife,” he hissed and shook his head, “you do not deserve to live.”

“I-“

Robin quickly ran his sword across the man’s throat before he could say anything else and stood up, looking around to see that the rest of raiders were either dead or dying.  No raider had survived the reverse ambush.  He glanced behind him to see his gang coming towards him, a couple of them like Little John and Will with horrified expressions on their faces.  They had seen what he had done and he knew that they would not understand.  That dead man had threatened his King and Marian…that was unforgivable.

“Is he…?” Much spoke from his right and he turned to see his former manservant looking a little worst for wear, but gesturing with a bloodied sword and shield towards the body of the raider leader.

“Dead,” Robin replied in a simple tone before grabbing the cloth that Much had absently produced and wiped his sword clean as best as he could before sheathing it.  Handing the cloth back to his former manservant, he avoided looking at the others and instead headed towards his King.

He saw the rest of the Guard look up as he approached and could not keep the smile off of his face at his relief upon seeing them.  “Robin!” Tomas greeted before pulling him into a hearty embrace and letting him go.

“Tomas, Harry, Daniel, Ollie…you grew,” he greeted the four members of the Private Guard that had apparently accompanied the King.

“Sir,” was the murmured reply as they shook his hand before he grinned towards the thatch of blond-hair and fierce expression of competition that he recognized from so long ago.

“Carter, still alive?” he grinned at his good friend, meeting his hand in a firm grip before slapping him good naturedly on the back and receiving one of his own.

“No thanks to your shooting,” the Knight Templar and personal spy of the King replied.  Robin completely understood why Carter was here if it seemed that the others did not understand.  “Thought you had been captured…?”

Robin shook his head, “Story for another time.”  He released his friend’s hand as he noticed the last person he would have expected to be here in England again, after all, he was definitely more comfortable amongst the arid climate that was the Holy Lands.  He had also been dressed in an all-black version of the clothing he was used to seeing him in, but now, reverted back to his regular whites.

“ _Salaam Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad_ ,” he greeted his friend in Arabic as he approached them.

“ _Salaam, Robin of Locksley_ ,” the assassin greeted back with a small nod before gesturing behind him and Robin saw Marian picking her way through the bodies her clothes a little bloodied, but she looked unharmed.

“Marian,” he offered up a hesitant smile, suddenly aware at how much blood he had just shed to save them, but she met his gaze and a smile of relief broke over her features.  She did not rush at him nor embrace him, but rather kept that hopeful smile of relief on her face before the Guard suddenly parted to let the King through.

“ _Milord!_ ” Robin did not kneel on the ground like he would have if the situation had been any different.  He considered the woods a potential hostile area and thus did not want to endanger his liege and lord.  The others crowded around, giving them room, but also kept a wary eye out for anyone else attempting to ambush them.  He saw Altaїr step back to stand with his gang and smiled inwardly.  The Hashashin leader had to feel completely out of place with Crusaders here and so blended with the group he was most familiar with, his gang.

“ _So it is you, Captain_ ,” the King greeted in French and Robin smiled.

“ _I am glad to see you safe and in good health, milord.  I had feared the worst when the Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _and your brother, Prince John spoke of the plans for your ambush after the Duke of_ _Austria_ _fled_ ,” he replied.

“ _Nonsense_ ,” the King replied a bit flippantly, “ _our brother does not have the willpower to overthrow our rule_.”

Robin refrained from commenting on that, knowing that it would only serve to make his King angry at him and he did not want that after just seeing him again.  Instead, he nodded once but gestured to the horses milling about, now quiet after the battle was over, “ _If you will, milord.  I would be more than willing to escort you and the rest of the Guard to London and from there find a ship for your return to France-_ “

“ _We are not returning to our homelands right now, there is the matter of our brother in Nottingham_ ,” the King interrupted him and Robin shot a quick look to Tomas and Carter both of whom nodded.  They had just confirmed the silent message he had sent to them – the King was actually going to Nottingham after learning about Prince John?  Carter however, did not look very happy about it.

“ _Milord, I cannot guarantee your safety-_ “

“ _It is not up for discussion, Captain.  We appreciate your efforts, and it would please us to talk of other things_ ,” the King held up a hand, silencing him.  He frowned, uneasy with the way his King so readily dismissed his concern.  However, it seemed that his King moved on and instead, gestured to the remnants of the patrol that had survived.  There were several of them missing and Robin knew that they had fallen in the skirmish.  “We _recognize your colors as our brother’s own..._ ”

“I, uh, am _Leftenant_ Geoffrey,” the leader of the patrol unit stammered, clearly understanding the King’s French, but unable to reply in the same language.  “M-My men and I…uh…we wanted to help you.  And, uh, well, we didn’t feel what Prince John was doing was right…”  The man shot Robin a pleading look and he stepped forward again, but instead of speaking in the King’s native tongue, he spoke in English, making sure that his own gang understood him.

“The raiders originally were sent with orders for them to be reinforcements for this skirmish.  I paid them off,” he gave Geoffrey and the surviving patrol a pointed look, “with my own coin, for them to patrol somewhere else.  They returned, gave back the coin, and told me that they were not comfortable fighting under Prince John’s banner.”

“And how do we not trust that you would break your word?” the King asked, his English barely understandable.

Geoffrey had no answer and instead gave him a helpless shrug.  “I…do not know, milord.”

The King made a noise of interest before walking forward towards Geoffrey and drew out a small knife.  He handed it hilt first to the man and Robin nearly lurched forward to intercept the blade and hand, his instincts as the Captain of the Private Guard still strong.  If the King was taking this risk by presenting him with an open blade, and he was not fast enough-  Robin refused to let that thought continue and quashed it ruthlessly.

“Swear to me you will serve me,” the King stated in a simple, but powerful command.

Geoffrey looked at the blade before staring up at the King and nodded an expression of relief on his face.  He drew the blade across his palm and blood welled up from the shallow cut.  “I swear to you, King Richard the Lionhearted; I will serve you until my last breath takes me.”  Flipping the hilt of the knife back to the King who accepted the blade with a solemn nod, he backed away and turned to the others.

“Bury the bodies, we shall make camp,” he ordered.

                                    *                      *                      *

It had taken the whole of the afternoon and early evening before all of the bodies of the raiders and those in Geoffrey’s patrol had been properly buried.  Everyone save for the King had chipped in to help and by then exhaustion had settled into most of those in the group so conversation was light.  As soon as the fire was lit and dinner roasting on the spit, a few hares and a pheasant, Robin had been deluged with questions from the rest of his gang as to his miraculous escape.

He had relayed the heavily edited tale to them before presenting Little John with Forrest’s knife, telling the gruff woodsman that Forrest had died a hero, sacrificing himself so that he could get out of the dungeons.  Little John had accepted the blade without comment, and after dinner had been finished, excused himself from the group.  No one disturbed him and Robin knew that the man wanted some time alone to grieve the man that had been like another son to him.

He had deferred command of the members of the Private Guard to Tomas, surprising the grizzled older soldier before gesturing to his own gang and a knowing smile appeared on his mentor and friend’s face.  However, Tomas still insisted on keeping him in the loop of when shift changes were occurring.  Since they had Geoffrey and his men to add to their numbers, it was easier to give more men some time to rest, though Robin knew as well as Tomas did that no one save for probably the King trusted them.  That was why one of the Private Guard was constantly awake, watching the others by his post by the King’s tent.

Robin nodded to Ollie, the youngest member of the Private Guard that had accompanied the King, surprised that the young man with big ears had grown up since he had last seen him.  Ollie grinned as he stepped into the King’s tent, holding the flap open to let his personal physician Jacques leave with a few jars and bandages in hand.

He stepped in, the flap closing behind him and was not surprised to see Carter attending to the King, or at least standing next to where the King was looking at something.  As far as he knew, no one else seemed aware that Carter was the King’s personal spy, though Marian had made a comment that she found it odd that a Knight Templar, sworn enemy of Altaїr and the other Hashashin, was by the King’s side.  Robin had given a rather evasive reply, knowing that it was not his place to tell others about Carter’s secret.  He nodded a silent greeting to his friend, before clearing his throat roughly and bowed.  “ _Milord, you had summoned me?_ ”

“ _You may give your report_ ,” the King said and for a second Robin gaped, unsure.  His King wanted a report?  A report on what?  He saw his King look up at him when he didn’t speak and opened his mouth a couple of times before rattling off the first thing that came to his mind.  He had not expected something like this and had forgotten what it was like.

“ _Um_ ,” Robin cleared his throat again, feeling warmth and embarrassment flush into his cheeks, “ _the garrison is strong at_ _Nottingham_ _, sire.  There are at least several contingents of Prince John’s own Guards, most of them replacing Sheriff Vaysey’s own patrols.  They are vigilant and allow no dissent within the town and surrounding villages.  Patrols have been sent out to the paths and roads in and out of the shire and villages terrorized for seemingly harboring outlaws_.”  He made a mental note to talk to Altaїr later regarding the real state of Nottingham’s populace, half of them seemingly under the thrall of the partial Piece of Eden.  He did not know why the assassin was here, but it most definitely saved him a letter to Masyaf.

“ _And have they harbored outlaws?_ ” the King asked, not looking up from whatever he was reading, which judging by the darkened ink marks, looked like a map of sorts.

The question was innocuous enough, but Robin understood the meaning behind it.  He did not know how much Marian or even the rest of his gang had told the King, but he would not lie to his liege and lord.  “ _Yes, they have harbored outlaws_ ,” he replied, “ _my men and I have sought refuge time and time again when we were pursued by the Sheriff’s forces_.”

The King looked up at him and Robin steeled himself, “ _Upon my return from the Holy Lands, I resumed my duties as lord of Locksley and Earl of_ _Huntington_ _.  However, in my absence, the original Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _whom you had approved had been replaced by Vaysey, a man loyal to your brother, Prince John.  He was taxing the populace of the shire until they had no money left and then even throwing them into jail because they had no money to pay for the harsh taxes.  Punishment was meted out with harsher judgment to deter crime from happening, yet it still persisted.  Those who had nothing left to give and could not give anymore were punished because of their inability to give what they could not give._

“ _Three of my villagers had been arrested for stealing food so that they could feed their families.  A spell in the stocks would have been the usual punishment and I asked for clemency.  It was denied_ ,” he remembered seeking out Edward only to have his efforts rebuffed and the former Sheriff telling him to stay low, work from the inside and play the corrupt game of politics.

“ _I refused to play the corrupt game of politics_ ,” he stated, “ _and took matters into my own hands_.”

“ _Those that take law unto their own become twisted by such perversion of justice_ ,” the King looked at him, his gaze steady.

“ _And that is why the Sheriff Vaysey is not dead yet_ ,” he countered quietly, “ _because I refuse to kill him.  I refuse to become a murderer when he can be ousted from his position by losing favor_.”

“ _Yet you wantonly kill these raiders?_ ”

“ _Because it is my duty above all else to see to your safety, milord_ ,” Robin did not admit that he still felt a twinge of sorrow for killing so many today.  “ _These raiders were the same ones who have attacked Knighton Hall, kidnapped Marian and her father Sir Edward, burned half of the village down and threatened their lives.  Sir Edward and Marian were innocents and I vowed to never let innocents be harmed in this conflict between the Sheriff and I._ ”

“ _But by association with you, she is a guilty party, and we are willing to guess that she has more than once harbored you and your men_ ,” the King replied, his expression betraying no feelings.

“ _And by association all of the villages, all of the shire would be guilty of helping outlaws_ ,” Robin said, “a _nd I am not ashamed of that, but I believe what I have been doing since my return is right, it is to help those who cannot help themselves_.”

“ _And what happens after order is restored?  What happens when Sheriff Vaysey is replaced by perhaps Sir Edward?  Will the populace be dependent on your goodwill?  Will laziness be the normalcy through Nottinghamshire?_ ”

Robin paused.  He had not thought about that since he became an outlaw.  Too long had it been since he had been fighting Vaysey that he did not stop and consider the consequences.  It was because he believed the King would never return or at least would never return for a long time.  Because he believed that he would die an outlaw and someone else would take up the mantle of Robin Hood.  He blinked, collecting his thoughts, trying to present a counter argument to what the King had said.  Finally, he shook his head.  “ _I do not know, sire_ ,” he looked away, “ _I had not thought of that future_.”

The King sat back, stroking his beard with one hand, silent for a few minutes before sitting forward again, “ _Thank you for your honesty, Captain Locksley_.”

“ _Sire_ ,” Robin bowed before straightening, “ _milord, there is something you should know_.”

“ _Yes?_ ”

“ _Sir Edward Fitzwalter is dead_ ,” he swallowed against the painful lump that rose in his throat.  He still had yet to tell Marian of her father’s death and was most definitely _not_ looking forward to breaking the news to her.

The King leaned forward again, very interested, “ _And how did he die?_ ”

“ _Prince John and the Sheriff let it be known that you were within Duke Leopold V of_ _Austria_ _’s company set to return to these shores.  The Sheriff had already tried to usurp your position a few months ago by presenting an actor for the populace to see, playing on their ignorance of Your Grace_ ,” Robin replied, “ _then we learned that raiders had attacked Knighton Hall, kidnapping Marian and her father.  I did not trust the Sheriff to use the same trickery once more and so went to find Marian and Sir Edward.  It was an error in my judgment that we learned there was truth to your return.  I made haste back to_ _Nottingham_ _and discovered Sir Edward was not in the raider camps that we had pinpointed with help of other outlaw groups.  He had been in the dungeons of_ _Nottingham_ _Castle_ _, tortured for the sheer sport of it_.”

Robin swallowed the bile that threatened to overwhelm him.  He could not get the haunting image of Sir Edward’s crazed eyes blaming him for everything about Marian, the fact that he had gone mad from the single partial Piece of Eden.  His King need not know about that part and like he had sworn over a year ago, he would never find out that a Piece of Eden was involved.  He did not want its power corrupting his King.  “ _He died shortly after_.”

“ _And you were captured_ ,” the King stated.

“ _Yes_ ,” Robin met his King’s stare full, but did not elaborate.

“ _Tell me, Captain, why did your men not rescue you?_ ”

“ _Because I told them that Robin Hood was a symbol; that the King of_ _England_ _was far more important to the freedom of Nottinghamshire.  I have no qualms about embracing my death if it meant you, milord, were safe.  I am your Captain of your Private Guard and would always humbly give my life for you.  I am glad my men made the right decision.  To rescue me would have been foolish and suicidal_.”

“ _How did you escape then?_ ”

“ _The leader of one of the outlaw groups that Little John had been a part of sacrificed himself so I could get free_ ,” he said solemnly, “ _I owe him more than I can repay_.”

“ _His name?_ ”

“ _Forrest, sire_.”

The King made a small noise before rubbing his beard, “ _Anything you wish to add, Captain?_ ”

Robin bit his lip, looking down at the ground before raising his head up again, “ _Sire, if I may speak freely?_ ”

“ _We always value our advisors’ input_ ,” the King replied.

“ _I believe to go to Nottingham would invite disaster and put you in great peril_ ,” he flicked a look at Carter, noticing how his friend, silent this whole time, looked even more alarmed.  His friend had the right to be alarmed and he suspected that perhaps had tried to talk their King out of going to Nottingham, but was unsuccessful, judging by the raiders’ ability to ambush them.

“ _We have heard arguments from the others, but we have made our decision_ ,” the King stared at him, his tone even, but Robin could hear the gentle rebuke in them.  “ _Prince John is in_ _Nottingham_ _and we have decided that we shall deal with his lapse in judgment regarding the state of affairs in our realm in our absence_.”

“ _Sire, I must protest this course of action_ ,” Robin spoke formally, “ _there are…elements within_ _Nottingham_ _that conspire to take your life.  As your Captain of the Private Guard, I strongly condone this course of action.  The six of us cannot protect you as well as we would be able to with hostile forces in the castle_.”

“ _We shall take your words under advisement.  However, what you have told me have only confirmed my belief that this is a situation that needs to be rectified.  It cannot wait nor would we send a proxy.  If this Sheriff is as corrupt as you claim him to be, then he will be immediately replaced_ ,” the King stared at him, the hint of a wolfish smile on his lips as Robin realized how effectively his own King had trapped him in his words.  By asking him for his report and Robin not exactly thinking through what he had told his King, he realized that the King had just used his own report back against him to take down his argument.

He really was out of practice giving and filtering his reports to the King, even though he strove to always tell him the truth.  However, he knew that now, even more than ever, he could not tell him the full reason why his liege and lord should not go to Nottingham.  To reveal that there was a partial Piece of Eden at work would only serve to strengthen the King’s argument for going to Nottingham instead of doing the opposite.  His King would be curious about the artifact and he had promised Altaїr that he would keep the Piece of Eden he carried upon him safe.

“ _Then we will strive to protect you from all elements that may harm you,_ ” he bowed his head.

“ _We expect no less from you, Captain_ ,” the King replied before waving a hand at him to dismiss him.  Robin finished his bow and stepped out of the King’s tent, a frown on his face.

“No luck?” Ollie asked as he breathed in the cold winter’s air.

“No luck,” he shook his head at the young Guard’s question, understanding what the young man was asking him.  It seemed that everyone did not like the King going to Nottingham and with his appearance; they had hoped he would persuade the King otherwise.

“We’ll do our best sir,” the young man piped up.

“I know you will,” he grinned at him before spotting Altaїr near the main fire, not quite joining in with the others, but not disinterested either.  The master assassin must have noticed him staring because he looked up and Robin gestured with his head, indicating that he wanted to talk with him away from the others.

Altaїr stood up from where he had been half watching Much examine his chainmail and tunic, while telling stories of some of their adventures in the Holy Lands aided by Tomas’ and some of the other Guard’s interjections.  Only Marian had noticed the assassin getting up and looked around.  Robin caught her eyes and gave her a smile before she nodded and returned to listening to Much’s latest yarn.  There would be time later to tell her…

He stepped away from the King’s makeshift tent and headed a little bit away from the camp, enough so that he was sure their voices would not carry, or at least if it carried, their words wouldn’t be made out.  Altaїr joined him, his dark eyes glittering in the moonlight underneath his hood.

“ _You got rid of the black_ ,” Robin gave him a crooked smile, gesturing with a chin to his white robes.

“ _And you got rid of the green_ ,” he replied just as easily in Arabic indicating his chainmail and tunic that he wore.

“ _I return to my King’s service as it is only appropriate that all colors and allegiances be shown_ ,” he shrugged, “ _but I did not expect to see you here_.”

“ _I was in our Venice bureau when word reached us that the Templars installed a new leader_ ,” Altaїr replied.

“ _Leopold, it has to be_ ,” the confirming nod told him that he had hit the mark, “ _and then I presume you found out that he was coming here?_ ”

“ _I went to_ _Vienna_ _and by then, discovered that your King was a prisoner of his_ ,” the master assassin said, “ _and learned that he was to sail to_ _England_ _to present him before Prince John regarding negotiations_.”

“ _Negotiations to hand power over to John and divide up the Norman lands in France_ ,” Robin frowned, the pieces coming together.

“ _What I don’t understand is why come all the way here when Leopold could have just as easily killed the King in Vienna and be done with it_ ,” Carter’s voice cutting through their conversation made him look up to see the blond-haired Templar picking his way through some bramble to join them.  “ _And why didn’t you do anything to kill Leopold during the battle, Assassin?_ ”

Robin blinked, looking back and forth between the two, noticing the dark looks they were throwing at each other.  He felt like he was missing something here.

“ _I do not need to explain myself to you, Templar_ ,” Altaїr sneered.

“ _Can you explain it to me?_ ” he definitely knew that there was something amiss between his two friends.

“ _The assassin here claims to be a master of stealth and can easily kill a man while standing next to him and we’d be none the wiser.  Hah!  He did not even kill his target-_ “

“ _Leopold dies according to the tenets of my Creed and at the place of_ my _choosing_ ,” Altaїr cut Carter off, “ _and you know nothing of what my Order does.  Do not be so presumptuous to speak of our deeds when your Order has none to show for!_ ”

“ _The Templars you fight are not_ my _Order-_ “

“ _All right, all right_ ,” Robin cut through the two of them, “ _you can fight later!  Just, answer my question, Altaїr_.”  He should have expected that Carter as a Knight Templar, even though a spy within the Knight Templars, would find Altaїr, the leader of the Assassin Order, would butt heads.

“ _I did not want to attract anymore attention to the Order by publicly assassinating Leopold.  Since the death of my former Master Al Mualim, I have been considering another path for the Order to take, to blend in with the rest of society, to work from within to eliminate the Templar Order.  Visible assassinations only served to heighten the Order’s profile and with so many of my brothers and sisters lost by Al Mualim’s abuse of the Apple Piece of Eden_ ,” for a moment Altaїr looked troubled, but quickly schooled his expression into his usual neutral frowning state, “ _your band of outlaws staging a successful ambush on Leopold’s convoy forced my hand and during the brief fight he recognized me_.”

“ _That does explain why he suddenly fled instead of staying to fight.  His own private guards could have easily overpowered us_ ,” Carter frowned, tapping his chin, “ _but it doesn’t explain why Leopold had to take the King all the way here_.”

Robin pursed his lips for a second before glancing at his friend, “ _Is it safe to assume that you know something about the Piece of_ _Eden_ _and its power?_ ”

Carter raised an eyebrow at him before nodding cautiously, “ _You never mentioned this before…_ ”

“ _Because I recently remembered attacking the two of you in those dungeons in…_ _Jerusalem_ _?_ ”

“ _Acre_ ,” Altaїr confirmed quietly and Robin absently nodded.

“ _Acre, right_ ,” that particularly nasty memory had unlocked during his torture with Hadiya, after he had recognized the feeling of the liquid she had poured down his throat to make him feel unspeakable pain.  His body, mind, and soul had reacted the only way it knew how and unlocked that memory of the previous torture.  He had never told anyone, not even Much nor Marian, but it still shook him to the core that he could commit such atrocities.

He looked at the master assassin, “ _I found Hadiya’s Piece of_ _Eden_.”

Altaїr’s reaction was instant, a narrowing of eyes.  But before the assassin could get a word in Carter cut in.  “Wait, what?”

“ _Back in August, Altaїr came here on a mission to retrieve a partial Piece of Eden that the Templars had found and kill Hadiya, one of their own who had gone rogue_ ,” he made sure to emphasize his Arabic to remind Carter that there was a reason they were speaking in this language – so that almost anyone who overheard them could understand what they were saying, Djaq not withstanding.  “ _Things…happened and somewhere along that line, the partial Piece of_ _Eden_ _she carried with her was lost_.”

He turned back to Altaїr, “ _It is in the hands of the Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _, probably retrieved by Gisborne for him_.”

“ _Who is Gisborne?_ ” Carter asked.

“ _Guy of Gisborne, the Sheriff’s right hand man and the one who tried to kill the King and nearly succeeded in killing me_ ,” he gestured roughly to the scar he had under his arm.  “ _All I remembered was a wolf’s head tattoo-_ “

“ _I have a wolf’s head tattoo_ ,” the blond-haired man frowned, “ _it’s the mark all Knight Templars receive…wait he is a Templar?!  I should have known about this!_ ”

“ _Quiet!_ ” Robin noticed several of the others had turned their heads towards them after hearing Carter’s half-shout, “ _And what’s this about Knight Templars and wolf’s head tattoos?!_ ”

“ _The wolf’s head tattoo was considered a mark of those Templars who were trained to be our equivalents in terms of assassinations_ ,” Altaїr smiled darkly at Carter who shook his head and rolled his eyes, “ _which meant, this Guy of Gisborne was trained.  And if he was working with Hadiya, most likely trained by her.  This would also explain how he might have known a little bit about the Pieces of_ _Eden_ _enough to recognize the object and pick it up from the battlefield_.”

“ _A battlefield_ ,” Carter did not sound happy, but Robin was in no mood to tell him what had transpired that night.  That was one memory he did not want to revisit, not after frightening Marian so badly.

“ _My concern is for the King.  The Sheriff has the partial Piece of_ _Eden_ _.  What is stopping him from using it against the King?_ ” he gave a pointed look at Carter, reminding him their first priority.  Everything else was secondary to the King’s safety.

“ _I_ _am more concerned about Leopold_ ,” Altaїr muttered under his breath.

“ _Why not tell the King of the existence of the Piece of_ _Eden_ _, surely he would understand-_ “

“ _I noticed you had never spoke of it, or at least the King made no indication that he knew of a Piece of Eden’s existence after I had returned from Acre_ ,” Robin pointed out, “ _and I will never tell him of it, not after showing him that diary of Robert de Sable_.”

“ _Why not?_ ” the Templar challenged, his voice taking on an edge that Robin didn’t quite recognize.

“ _You know as well as I do what even a sliver of that thing does to others!  What it did to me!  Carter, I know you and I know your loyalties.  You would never give something that deadly or make known its existence if it would save the King his sanity and self_ ,” he glared at his friend, wondering why he was pushing him like this.

“ _Good_ ,” the Templar said and Robin realized Carter had been testing him; even Altaїr looked at him in surprise, “ _because the two of you should know something.  There are rumors that one of Leopold’s guards carries with him a Piece of_ _Eden_ _.  While I am not as trusted as I was before Robert de Sable’s death, I still hear things.  That was what you were looking for during the recent skirmish with Leopold, was it not, Assassin?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” Altaїr replied carefully, “ _I had also heard of this rumor.  None of the dead had it on them_.”

“ _How do you…_ ” Robin trailed off as Altaїr indicated a small pouch that had been carefully hidden beneath the volumes of white winter robes he wore.  The spherical size of the pouch gave every indication that Altaїr still carried the Apple of Eden upon himself and Robin shook his head.  “ _At the risk of sounding like Malik again, that thing is dangerous.  Why do you keep it?_ ” he frowned.

“ _Luckily I did not need to use it on you that time_ ,” the assassin matched his gaze evenly.

Robin had no answer to that, knowing that Altaїr had used his own partial Piece that he had been entrusted to free him of the darkness that had consumed him that August night.  Instead he tilted his head at Carter and realized something before comprehension filled his face, “ _You plan to use the King as bait?!_ ”

“ _No and_ you _keep your voice down_ ,” Carter stared at him, horrified, “ _Before your band of outlaws rescued us, I had hoped to secretly free the King the deeper we got into Sherwood so he would flee with Tomas and the Guard to London.  I would have then stolen the Piece from Leopold_.”

“ _And what would you have done with it?_ ” Altaїr asked.

“ _I know you will not believe my words Assassin, but I would have destroyed it_ ,” Carter shot back.

The master assassin only snorted and looked away.

“ _However, the King now insists on going to Nottingham and like you, I dare not tell him of the existence of the Piece of Eden_ ,” his friend shook his head.  “ _How bad is_ _Nottingham_ _right now?_ ”

“ _Half of the populace are seemingly under a thrall of sorts_ ,” Robin replied.

“ _Perhaps if the King were to negotiate and talk with his brother-_ “

“ _I will pretend those words did not come out of your mouth_ ,” Carter put a hand to the hilt of his sword.

“ _Carter_ ,” Robin shook his head, “ _Altaїr knows what he is doing_.”

“ _I understand your devotion to your precious King_ ,” Altaїr sent a nasty look to Carter, “ _but one of the tenets of our Creed is to stay our blade from the flesh of innocents.  Your King is far from innocent, but he will not be harmed_.”

“ _So you say_.”

“ _It would be easy for me to blend amongst the crowd and search for this Piece of Eden_ ,” the assassin continued as if he did not hear Carter.

“ _And kill Leopold_ ,” Robin interjected.

“ _If Leopold dies, the Prince will have no power to consolidate his support and therefore, the King would not be harmed_ ,” the Assassin replied simply.  “ _I have observed your King many times and he is no fool.  His will alone would cower the Prince’s own Guards into submission if Leopold is behind him_.”

“ _And those English nobles who were looking to join the Templars would see that another one of their leaders is dead_ ,” Robin nodded, a crooked smile appearing on his face, “ _very clever_.”

“ _And risky!  Robin, you are the Captain of the Private Guard!  You are condoning this course of action?!  At this great of a risk to the King?!_ ” Carter looked appalled.

“ _Because I know the fastest routes in and out of Nottingham, yes_ ,” the smile disappeared as he stared at the King’s tent grimly.  “ _I do not like it, but it is the best plan we have_.”

Carter’s jaw visibly tightened for a few seconds before he crossed his arms across his chest.  “ _Fine.  What about the Sheriff?  You said he had a partial Piece of_ _Eden_ _?_ ”

“ _Leave the Sheriff to me_ ,” Robin replied, “ _my presence there, in the King’s grace should be enough to distract and infuriate him_.”

A mirthless chuckle issued from Carter’s mouth and even Altaїr cracked a smile before Carter looked at him, his expression serious as he reverted back to English.  “Robin, I hope you know what you’re doing, for the King’s sake and for ours.”

“I know,” he glanced at his two friends, “but I know with the two of you, with my gang, with Marian, with everyone, this is the stand we need to make.”  He clapped their shoulders with his hands.  The battle to retake Nottingham had only begun.

 

~END OF PART 2~

 

**Author’s Notes:**

            For those of you who have never played _Assassin’s Creed_ , some filler notes for the Piece of Eden and Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad.  The Piece of Eden was considered a powerful object of sorts that had the ability to control people, project multiple illusions, and many other things.  It also had a tendency to corrupt its users after a fashion.  In the game _Assassin’s Creed_ , you play as Altaїr who has been sent to initially retrieve what his Master and at that time the head of the Assassin Order, Al Mualim considered to be a sacred object.

Altaїr is then tasked with killing nine others, all Knight Templars (in the sense that some were secret Templars) because they desired to increase the bloodshed in the Holy Lands during the Third Crusade.  He soon learns that these men, while most were corrupt in some way, they were also in fact trying to do the opposite.  He learns that it was Al Mualim who was the tenth Knight Templar, attempted to use the Piece of Eden to enslave the populace to do his bidding and create a world without war, but at the cost of personal freedom.

            Altaїr ends up killing Al Mualim for his treachery, and keeps the Piece of Eden – called the Apple of Eden, but at the same time he also learns that this vicious cycle for the many Pieces of Eden scattered across the world has been happening since the beginning of time.  So ends the canonicity of the game.  Now, in _Solace of Silence_ , I added a few tidbits and extras in my attempt to blend the two universes together.

            That conversation you have just read between Carter, Robin and Altaїr is the culmination of the many plot threads that were left hanging in _Solace of Silence_ and _The Assassin’s Gift_.  Now, onward to the exciting final part of the story in all of its three-part glory and the conclusion of _The Moment of Truth: The King Richard Trilogy_.


	7. Return to the End - Part 1: Indomintable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from where Part 2 left off, King Richard, insistent on teaching his younger brother John a lesson, heads to Nottingham along with Robin and the gang, the remnants of the Private Guard and Altaїr, the assassin with his own mission. What awaits them is the most devious trap yet. The confrontation between the Sheriff and Robin has come at last. For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life.

Robin Hood: Return to the End

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in mid-November when King Richard returns from the Holy Land.

 

**Summary:**

Continuing from where Part 2 left off, King Richard, insistent on teaching his younger brother John a lesson, heads to Nottingham along with Robin and the gang, the remnants of the Private Guard and Altaїr, the assassin with his own mission.  What awaits them is the most devious trap yet.  The confrontation between the Sheriff and Robin has come at last.  For each moment, there is a pause. For each moment, there is a glimpse of dark. For each moment, there is the hope of light. Robin faces the moment of truth and this time, it will cost a life.

**Story:**

 

_Part 1 – Indomitable_

 

**SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

The sun had just barely risen and Robin was almost done cleaning his blade, having spent the evening after his talk with Carter and Altaїr sitting by Marian, absently making new arrows after salvaging the ones off of the bodies before burying them.  He still had not told her about her father’s death, unwilling to break her heart after she had looked so happy to see him.  He knew that he would have to before they entered Nottingham, he did not want her to find out from the Sheriff or from anyone else.

He lifted his blade, and stared down its curvature.  There were some nicks and dents in the blade, but that was natural wear and tear in the months he had been using it.  He was focused on his blade so much that when a slightly skinnier, but still curved blade tapped his own lightly Robin nearly jumped.  He glanced up and saw Altaїr standing near him, a neutral expression on his face.

However, Robin understood the challenge behind the tapping of their swords and grinned up at his friend, whose expression went from neutral to a wiry smile.  It was an old game they played, one that started when he had been recovering from the near-fatal stab wound he had received protecting the King.  In order to build up his energy reserve and to make sure his wound did not immobilize him, he had taken up sparring with some of the younger Hashashin recruits and several times had even sparring with the master assassin himself.

But since Altaїr had been trained from a very young age to kill and wield the sword, Robin had been defeated each time.  He had counteracted by challenging his friend to archery contests around Masyaf, beating him soundly and managing to impress more than a few recruits to the hardiness of the bow and arrow.  The night before he left for the port of Acre and from there by boat to Sicily and home, Altaїr had challenged him in what they both thought was the last time they were ever to meet.  Naturally, the assassin had won that final bout, but had also imparted him with the partial Piece of Eden he now carried.  The match had also taught Robin a little more about himself and how much he had changed since he had been in the Holy Lands.

“This time, Altaїr, this time,” he called out quietly as he got up, brushing some fallen leaves from his pants and setting his cleaning cloth down.

The assassin only nodded congenially before the two of them headed just a little bit away from camp, unwilling to wake the rest with what both hoped would be a good practice.  It was also practical in a way, to ward off the chill and to make Robin feel a little stronger since he had escaped from Nottingham's dungeons.  He knew that he could not fool Carter, the King, or even Altaїr on his slightly deteriorated condition, having not eaten a proper meal since his imprisonment, but he hoped that the rest of the gang, especially Marian had not noticed.

He hoped the exercise would do him wonders and hopefully bring his energy level back up to a somewhat normal feeling, especially since they were so close to Nottingham.  He had a feeling he would need his wits about him when his liege and lord confronted his brother.

“Any rules?” he asked as they found a small clearing near the camp where the ground was mostly flat and devoid of any sharp rocks or fallen logs.  It was custom to ask if any of the trainees wanted additional rules in order to help them learn without being completely overpowered by their opponent, especially if it was a senior opponent.  When he had been training with the assassin trainees, some had asked that he would only attack from the front, or some had even boldly declared that he could use whatever weapon he had wanted.  When he had been fighting Altaїr during those times, it was pretty much no rules involved and sometimes included a lot of dirty tricks, especially on the assassin's part.  He had thought Altaїr would fight honorably, but the master assassin showed him why he had gotten his rank and how he fought – there was no honor or chivalry involved, just a decisive victory, or in the case of his victims when out in the field, death.

“No rocks,” Altaїr shrugged and Robin nodded.

“Agreed,” rocks would only serve to injure themselves and it was a fair point, “no Pieces of Eden.”

Here the leader of the Masyaf Hashashin laughed lightly, a rich and rare sound before nodding his agreement.  “No Pieces of Eden.”

Robin's lips quirked up in a crooked smile before he killed it and held his blade in front of him, his right hand gripping the pommel, his left hovering near it in case he needed extra power behind his first swing or block.  Across from him Altaїr drew out his blade and held it in a similar way.  There was a moment's pause before Robin took the offensive and kicked up several dried leaves from the ground towards the assassin.

Through the curtain of falling leaves, he saw the assassin set his blade and duck to the side bringing his blade to the side to counter the blow he swung at him.  The leaves were only a diversion, but he wanted to let Altaїr know that while rocks were not supposed to be use, it meant that anything on their mock battleground was useable, including the dried fallen leaves.

The slightly humorless grin Altaїr shot at him spoke volumes as to what he thought that kind of attack was, amateurish, easily seen, and most definitely stupid.  Robin mock bowed with only a dip of his head before breaking the stalemate and attacked again, going on the offensive.  He slashed in quick succession, driving the master assassin back before spinning and bringing his blade in an angled strike.  It was met with counter of its own before Robin quickly brought up his free arm in a defensive block as Altaїr took advantage of their close state to punch him.

He retaliated with a hasty kick of his own, and only caught cloth as the assassin dodged.  Robin gripped his sword with both of his hands as Altaїr turned on the offensive and blocked the blows that the assassin threw at him.  With their curved swords, they were a fairly even match, but Altaїr was just a little taller than and thus his arms had a little more reach.  He stumbled a bit as his feet found a branch on the ground before rolling away and lifted his sword to block an overhead blow.

“Your footwork atrophied,” the assassin commented lightly before breaking the stalemate and stepping back to allow him to get up onto his feet.

“Getting better all the time,” Robin shot back, feeling some perspiration on his forehead before attacking Altaїr again.  He had forgotten how much _fun_ a mock swordfight could be with his friend.

As they traded blows back and forth, the assassin more than once allowing him to get back to his feet or recover his wind, Robin could feel himself getting a little stronger, a little better than how he had felt during yesterday’s battle.  Yesterday’s battle was fueled by anger and by adrenaline.  Today’s mock fight was fueled only by the desire to test himself to his limits without exhausting his reserves.  It had also reawakened a competitive streak within Robin that he had not felt since the silver arrow competition.  But even that competition had not really tested his skills since he had spent a majority of the time destroying Treeton mine and helping Rowan avenge his father’s death.

As they skirted the makeshift battleground, occasionally trading light insults or observations, Robin realized that since his return and his vow of not killing anyone unless it was necessary or if they meant harm to Marian or the King, his skills, especially with his sword work had atrophied as Altaїr had said.  He wasn’t the best with a sword, no that title definitely belonged to Carter, but he was fairly competent and able to hold his own.  One needed not only the skills to fire bows and arrows with accuracy, but also sword work to protect the King.

It was not that he blamed his time amongst his gang and friends in Sherwood Forest, but rather, he did not blame anyone.  He had wanted a life of peace after he had returned and the Sheriff had forced his hand, forcing him to fight what was right and become an outlaw.  And he had done so with the utmost reluctance – and that reluctance had made him not want to kill anyone they had encountered.  It was only after Marian’s near fatal wound that he had woken up once more and realized that he could not properly defend those that he loved and cared for unless one was willing to kill in this day and age.  The Sheriff was most certainly willing to kill and though he had told himself his reluctance to kill was because of the vow he had made when he had received the curved Saracen sword, it was because he could not face the truth – that he could have become what the Sheriff and Gisborne had become, power hungry men.

He had all of the power in the world being Captain of the King’s Private Guard.  He could have asked for better lands, better title, and increase in status.  But he had asked none of those things and that was what ultimately separated him from the Sheriff and from Gisborne.  He was content with his lot in life, being with Marian, and being Lord of the little village of Locksley.

With a smile, Robin realized that was what truly made him different from the Sheriff.  He did not want to be like them, he wanted to be an ordinary man looking for his place in the world.

Altaїr must have noticed his smile of enlightenment for Robin suddenly had to defend himself from the quick sure strikes the assassin abruptly launched at him.  He scuffled backwards blocking a blind jab before his vision was filled with leaves as the assassin quickly kicked up several in the middle of his attack.  Robin only had a flash of glinting silver before ducking under the blade and lashed out with his own.  He fought back, the rhythm of the battle humming through him and to his surprise, battered away a guard that Altaїr had brought up.  Taking advantage of the quick look of surprise on the assassin's face, he extended his reach forward and looked to finally defeat the assassin when just as suddenly the assassin disappeared and Robin only had a split second of a glance as Altaїr slid across the leafy ground before rolling to his feet behind him.

But it was too late for Robin as he brought his sword up in a hasty parry.  He froze as he felt the cold metal touch the nape of his neck, Altaїr's blade having found its fatal mark, though the assassin did not actually slice his head off.

No words were spoken between them as Robin eyed the blade resting against his neck before the assassin pulled it away and sheathed it, a wiry smile on his face.  A bark of laugher issued from Robin's lips as he also sheathed his blade and it was only the sound of a few hands applauding that he realized they had an audience.

He looked to his right beyond the makeshift battleground to see Marian standing next to Carter, a smile on her face.  The rest of his gang had sat on various rocks and perches around their little battleground, most of them with impressed expressions their faces.  Apparently he and Altaїr had not moved far enough as he suspected the clanging of their blades had woken the camp up.  Carter had a rueful look on his face as Robin headed towards them.

“Your left guard is still a bit weak,” was all his friend said before turning back to camp, joining the rest of the Guard and patrol group that were around the fire, making breakfast.

“How many was that Much?” Robin called out to his former manservant who was intent on joining the others as they surrounded Altaїr, hoping to talk with him.

Much paused, his eyes skyward as he thought before counting a bit on his fingers and finally replied, “Fourteen.”

“Thanks,” he replied as he took Marian by the hand and led her away from the place.

“Fourteen?” she asked, curious.

“Fourteen challenges and fourteen times Altaїr's beaten me sparring like this,” he replied.

She stared at him before glancing back to where the assassin had was talking with Djaq and Will, the latter of the two listening with an intensity that Robin had learned was when Will wanted to learn something.  Allan and Little John hung behind, but were also curious as to what the master assassin had to say.  Much looked like he had already heard whatever Altaїr had said and nodded before interjecting his own thoughts.  He was glad that his gang had accepted the assassin; much like the Masyaf Hashashin had accepted him and Much so long ago.

“You didn't do so bad...” she shrugged.

“I actually thought it would be over sooner,” he admitted, “Altaїr rarely holds back whenever we spar.”

“And he did this time?” Robin could hear the skeptical tone in her voice and knew that she was concerned for him.

He sighed quietly before stopping as they threaded their way around the outskirts of the camp.  He knew that he could lie and make up something to ease her mind, but he did not want her to worry if she discovered the lie.  She had already seen what had happened to him the first time he had been imprisoned and tortured by Hadiya.  And he knew that she was strong, perhaps even stronger than he was.  “I am fine...”

Her smile disappeared as she stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” he hesitated, “I am mostly fine.  There wasn't any of the torture that Hadiya had inflicted upon me.”

“However...”

“It was a trap, an elegant, clever trap,” Robin knew that the time had come to tell Marian about her father, “one that I should have seen.”  He shook his head before looking at her, “I'm sorry Marian...”

“Robin?”

“They trapped me through your father,” he started hesitantly, “holding him prisoner in Nottingham's dungeons and letting it slip that he was held there.”

“A-And my father?” Marian asked, her voice wavering.

He squeezed her hands and shook his head before a small sob escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, the tears falling down her face.  Robin released her hands and instead, pulled her towards him, embracing her tightly, “I'm sorry...I am so sorry.”

He held her tightly as she cried, her tears soaking through his chainmail and making his tunic damp underneath.  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Much making his way towards them before stopping, noticing him holding her and nodded once before turning away.  Robin appreciated the gesture, having told Much and the rest of the gang of Edward's demise the night before.

He continued to whisper apologies into her ears as she cried, knowing that she needed the time to grieve.  The early morning sun had risen just a little higher before Marian finally stopped crying, keeping her head buried against him.  He had fallen silent, willing to just hold her and be her anchor.  Robin looked up as Carter crested the small hill near the camp, looking for them and stopping in his tracks as he spotted them.

“The King is ready to leave,” his friend murmured quietly, understanding what had just happened.

Robin nodded solemnly as Marian extracted herself from his arms, hastily wiping her red-rimmed eyes before composing herself.  “Are you all right?” he asked as he saw Carter turn away from them, giving them some privacy, but also urging them to hurry before the King became impatient.

“I will be,” she replied, her voice quiet, a wan smile on her face, “thank you, Robin...for telling me.”

He squeezed her hand in reassurance before the two of them headed back to camp, Carter a few steps ahead of them.  Robin saw that Much had prepared his horse along with Marian's and was grateful that even after not being his manservant for nearly a year; he still was thoughtful as ever.  They climbed up onto their horses and after Robin made sure Marian was truly all right, spurred his horse forward to join with the rest of the Guard.  His gang, Marian, and Altaїr followed behind, surrounded by the remnants of Geoffrey's patrol.  Together, they started the last leg of their journey towards Nottingham.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Prince John was furious as he heard the latest scouting reports regarding his brother, King Richard.  The ambush had failed spectacularly and adding salt to a raw wound was the news that a contingent of his own soldiers had allied themselves with his brother and rumors that Robin Hood had joined up with the King.  Vaysey had tried to placate his liege and lord with the assurance of the Piece of Eden's work, but the Prince would not listen.  Duke Leopold was even less helpful in Vaysey's opinion, the head of the Templar Order blaming the Prince for everything that had gone wrong since landing at Boston.

He was sure of the plan his liege had thought out, was so sure of it and now to see parts of it falling.  Vaysey would not be deterred from what was rightfully his for so long.  He would not be deterred from the power that awaited him when Prince John became King of England and the realm.  All because of one man, one man who dared to usurp the place that was given to him in the world, one man who had ruined so many of his plans, who had been a thorn in his side for so long.

And now the latest scouts said that the King was on his way here.  “Milord,” he hurried after Prince John's quick steps as he walked around the castle, “Milord there is still a way to salvage this...”

“There is no way to salvage this!” Prince John hissed as he pushed past a servant, sending him into the wall before turning towards the Great Hall and entered it.

“But there is,” Vaysey insisted, “all we need is to separate the King from his Guards-”

“And how,” his Prince whirled around, nearly making Vaysey stumble into him as he stopped abruptly, “would you separate the King from the ones who were sworn to protect him?!  Would you do the same to me and stab me in the back?!”

“That is not my intention, Your Majesty,” Vaysey held his hands up in an attempt to placate his liege's wrath.

“He may have a point, Prince John,” Leopold spoke up as they entered, his Guards surrounding him as always.  They were silent sentinels, dressed in armor that made them even more intimidating and hulking.  The Sheriff knew that the armor was supposed to intimidate everyone around them and while he did feel a bit dwarfed by their presence, he made sure it wasn't visible on his face.

The Prince shot him a withering look before gesturing roughly for him to step forward and speak.  Vaysey bowed his head slightly and shuffled forward, “If we separate him with the wish of maintaining peace and stability, we would be able to use the Piece of Eden in Gisborne's possession to continue our plans.”

“You would have _me_ surrender to my brother?!” Prince John was livid, but Leopold held up a hand, stopping him from making any rash moves.

“I presume you know of what the Pieces of Eden mean?” the Duke of Austria approached him slowly, the tap of his staff echoing on the stone ground.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Vaysey nodded, a hesitant smile on his face, “we were approached by an assassin, Hadiya, and Lord Le Celle of France several months ago...”

“A most curious rumor about Le Celle,” the Duke suddenly looked thoughtful, “he never made it back to his castle in France.  In fact, we have heard rumors that he died here in Nottingham.”  The Duke looked at him pointedly, “Do you have anything to say to this?”

“He-”

“He was weak,” Gisborne's voice cut through his and Vaysey looked to see his second-in-command stepping out of the shadows.  Where Gisborne had been all this time was beyond him, but it looked like the spine that he knew had been lacking had finally grown.  It could not come soon enough either.

The Duke turned a little to stare at Gisborne whose expression looked like it could have been carved from stone.  “He was one of my liaisons in the Norman courts.”

“Then appoint a new one,” Gisborne shot back, “if you are to divide up the King's lands you would not need a liaison in the Norman courts.”

“Unless you would like to be that liaison?”

“The Gisborne name is all but blight upon Norman lands,” Vaysey suppressed a knowing smile at his second-in-command's words.  Lady Ghislaine, Gisborne's mother, was once a highly regarded French noblewoman who fell from disgrace when Gisborne's father squandered their holdings and lands by allying themselves with Richard's father instead of Richard himself in the brief civil war.

“How true,” Duke Leopold tapped his staff a few times, “very well then.  I give you Le Celle's lands as your own.”

Vaysey narrowed his eyes slightly as he saw Gisborne bowed his head once towards the Grand Master of the Knight Templars.  He understood what was going on, what the Duke was trying to accomplish.  By giving Gisborne land, he thought he could buy the man's loyalty and while most of the time it was true, Vaysey could not help but feel a little jealous.  Gisborne was his, not someone to be pandered around, whose loyalties could be brought with just land.  He was the one who had whispered power and unlimited wealth before the Duke came and handed him lands.

“Now, Sheriff,” the Duke turned his gaze upon him again and Vaysey unconscious straightened, “what is your plan.”

“Ah, well, it goes like this,” he clasped his hands together and outlined the plan to the Duke and the Prince.  It would be foolproof and there would be nothing Hood could do to stop him.  Even if he tried, the sheer amount of guards around them would guarantee that they would not be able to reach the King in time.

“A fair plan,” Prince John nodded his approval, “my brother always did love to examine the many facets of a story and yours would provide the convincing argument that he examine this.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he bowed his head slightly in deference to Prince John's approval.  Here was the man who was set to be the next King of England and here was where the power lied.  Not in French Norman lands nor anywhere in that in-bred land of filth were squabbles happened all the time.  No, England was to be the new power-base and it would start with John ascending to the throne.  Let the Duke enjoy his power in Austria, let him be the head of the Knight Templars, they had the weapon that could influence everyone, control the weak-minded populace.

Perhaps in time they could turn that control towards the Duke and then maybe the Prince would appoint him, Vaysey as the new leader of the Knight Templars.  The thought made him a little dizzy for a second before he realized that the Duke was barking orders to the rest of whatever was left of his own Private Guard and Prince John was doing the same with some of his lieutenants.

Vaysey headed straight over to Gisborne, catching the man as he tried to leave and pulled him to the side.  “Make sure you know where your loyalties lay, Gisborne,” he hissed quietly.

“I know where they are,” the man stared at him, affronted.

“Good, because I would hate to see that all you have is the promise of lands when it isn't even written down to be yours,” he reminded him.

Gisborne stared at him for a moment before loosening his arm from his grasp, “You need not remind me.”  With that his second-in-command left and Vaysey stared at him as he exited the Great Hall.  Unlimited power would soon be his, he could practically taste it.  The Piece of Eden his carried with him that originally belonged to Le Celle pulsed its dark power in response.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **TOWN**

 

They rode in, proud, tall, strong, like conquerors instead of prisoners.  Robin rode by the King's left hand side, Carter by his right.  The rest of the Private Guard filled in behind them.  Robin Hood's men, Marian, and Altaїr rode behind the Guard and Geoffrey's patrol filled the back half of the small group.  Each one of the rode proudly, and while Robin fought hard to keep the smile off of his face, he knew that the rest of his gang held no such reservations.

Each one of Prince John's patrol they had encountered in Sherwood Forest dared not lay a hand on them, and each outlying village they past by drew stares and murmurs of people as they saw not only the King, but Robin Hood riding with the King and Robin Hood's men smiling.  Robin kept his archer's hood down so that the peasantry would recognize him as he rode into Nottingham, and it was only until the cheering started from the lower levels of the town that he finally allowed himself a rueful smile and glanced over to see Carter with a bemused look on his face.

The King only raised his hand up in a greeting which furthered the cheers as peasants ran from their houses, lining up on the streets, Prince John's own guards hard pressed to keep them at bay from charging towards the King and the group.  The King sensing an opportunity to bask in the goodwill of the people he had never met slowed his horse down to a walk, and Robin moved his horse closer to make sure that if the peasantry did manage to break through, they would not be able to reach the King without some difficulty.

It seemed that the thrall that had enveloped the town days before had lifted and Robin was glad to see Nottingham as lively as possible, banners and streamers flying from houses and the walls of the town.  However, he could not help but feel that Hadiya’s Piece of Eden was still at work, if not in the town, but somewhere.

“Robin!” a familiar voice called out from the front of the crowd and he squinted to see who was calling him amongst the hands and cheering faces along the main street to the castle.  “Robin!”

“Rowan!” he grinned as he spotted the young man trying to push his way past several guards, and Matthew and a healthier looking Terence behind him.  He turned to the King who nodded once before the Prince's own guards allowed the young man to approach as they continued to walk the horses towards the castle.

“We are ready, Robin,” Rowan replied breathlessly as Robin leaned down to listen to him, the roar of the crowd muffling most of his words from any eavesdroppers.  “Just say the word...”

Robin nodded and glanced over to where the portcullis leading into the castle was drawing closer.  “Just be ready,” he said before Rowan moved back into the crowd.  He did not want to endanger the young man anymore than he had by allowing him to come forward to talk with them.  The Prince's guards would be watching him now – wondering what he had to do with the King and with a known outlaw.

“It's good to see you back Robin,” Rowan replied before disappearing back into the crowd, Terence and Matthew following him to cover him as some of the Prince's soldiers stared at him with some interest in their eyes.

Straightening in his saddle and did not look at his King nor at Carter, but knew that his friend was staring at him, wondering what was that all about.  There would be time later to explain.  He would not put it past the Prince, the Sheriff, or even Gisborne to try to do something to his liege and lord.  And if Leopold was still in Nottingham, then everything in the castle was a potential trap for his King.

“ _Make way for King Richard, Lord of the English lands and realms!_ ” someone shouted in French as the portcullis was raised and they rode in.

Robin narrowed his eyes as he saw the sheer amount of guards dressed in Prince John's colors surrounding and lining the walls, their swords, shields, armor, and spears glistening as they lined up respectfully to greet the King.  He could feel the unease of the others in the Private Guard as they also noticed the same thing, their mutual training registering and processing how many each could take on before the guards reached the King.

Every single one of these men, more so the archers lining the tops of the walls, was a potential threat to the King and he did not like it.

“That's a lot...” he heard Allan's hoarse whisper before he trailed off as the King halted to a stop in front of the steps that led down from the main steps of the castle.  There were several sheets of white piled upon a cart filled with some hay in a corner of the courtyard, but Robin didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Your Grace,” Prince John's voice spoke from the top of the steps and Robin looked up to see the Prince surrounded by his retinue, the Sheriff and Gisborne amongst them.  However, he did not see Leopold or his Guards and wondered if the Duke had left for London.  Pushing the thought aside, he focused on Gisborne and the Sheriff, noting that the Sheriff in particular had a sour look on his face while Gisborne all but ignored him.

“ _Prince John_ ,” the King dismounted from his horse and Robin and the others did the same, “ _we are pleased you have welcomed us in such fashion after our successful Crusade against the heathens of Salah al-Din and the Saracens_.”

“Anything for you, my brother,” the Prince walked down the steps, his arms spread out to show that he held no weapons even though he had his sword hanging by his side.  “However I must advise you as it is my place to do so that you travel with traitors.”

“ _Traitors?_ ” the King replied, his tone mild.

Robin met the Prince's withering look evenly and kept his hand on his sword as he stood one step behind the King as was his place to do so.  “You travel,” the Prince's words were directed at him and he could hear the venom in them, “with the infamous outlaw Robin Hood.  His gang have caused the deaths of many within Nottinghamshire and his lies havoc amongst the English realm.”

“ _Oh?_ ” the King looked mildly interested, “ _and pray tell, dear brother of mine, whom is this Robin Hood?_ ”

The Prince's nasty smile froze on his face before he reluctantly pointed to Robin.  “Him, brother.”

Robin met his King's glance as he turned slightly and saw his King actually fighting to smile too before smoothing his face out as he turned back to his brother, “ _You accuse my Captain of my Private Guard of being this Robin Hood?_ ”

“Yes,” was the Prince's flat reply as he realized that his ploy was going no where before a knowing look appeared on his face and Robin frowned, suddenly feeling uneasy.  “We have several witnesses who can verify that this man killed Sir Edward Fitzwalter, the previous Sheriff of Nottingham.”  What he had thought was the Prince's downfall and expressions were only a ploy to make him feel relaxed and think that perhaps they had won.  No, something even more sinister was at work here.

“Sire-”

“ _Do you now, brother?_ ” the King stepped forward, ignoring Robin as he tried to warn his King that something wasn't right.  “ _I have heard serious accusations leveled against your confederates and yourself and here you are, leveling accusations against a man that had proven himself a hero in the Holy Lands_.”

“He,” the Prince glared at Robin, “is an outlaw.  One who has defied the laws you have created for this land and for governance of the people.  He has killed many men in the past year all because they had tried to protect the populace and enforce the law.  He has incited revolt against _your_ rule and leadership and has brought highwaymen, bandits to terrorize and harass the populace.  He has even encouraged theses acts from other nobles within the English realm by subverting justice.  They have seen your rule to be weak and have made grabs to the lands that are in your throne.”

The King was silent for a moment before nodding once, “ _Your words are true brother_.”  Robin blinked in surprise.  He could not believe that the King was actually agreeing with the accusations leveled against him.  But then again, this was the King's own flesh and blood, and a Prince's accusations were serious indeed.  He had heard rumors of nobles in the other lands who were spurred on by his acts of rebellion against the tyranny of the land.  The King did not explicitly say that he had forgiven him, but rather wanted his side of the story.

Robin recognized that the King was looking at all sides of the story, much like when he had wanted Robin's report into the dealings of Robert de Sable.  He had taken de Sable's reports and compared it against his own before coming to his own conclusion when Altaїr had first arrived in the midst of the Battle of Arsuf Plains.  That had resulted in the Grand Master of the Knight Templars' death and had sent Robin on the path to eventually becoming friends with the master assassin.

However, he trusted his King and had faith in him.  Somehow he always knew that he would have to answer to what he had done, who he had killed.  He had broken the laws of the land by becoming an outlaw.  And the King would be fair in his judgment.  Captain of the Guard or no, he was still an outlaw, still Robin Hood.  Robin of Locksley did not exist anymore the day he had shot Will, Luke, and Benedict down from the hangman's noose and Robin Hood was born.

“ _These accusations and witnesses_ ,” the King started, “ _you are willing to present them to us right now?_ ”

Robin suppressed a smile at the surprised look on the Prince's face before he nodded.  “Uh, yes, yes, Your Grace.”  The King had an expectant look before the Prince took another step down the stairs.  “Your Grace, I...uh, do not want harm to befall these witnesses from Robin Hood or his men-” He gestured vaguely towards the door of the castle.

“Milord, I do not think-” both Robin and Carter spoke up at the same time, moving towards him, but stopped as the King held up a hand.

“ _We shall hear these accusations_ ,” the King looked at him, his eyes stern before stepping forward and headed up the steps.  Robin made a move to follow, but was prevented by two guards who had stepped forward.

“ _Milord we should be there-_ ”

“ _I wish to hear these accusations alone_ ,” his King looked at Robin, stopping him from advancing before continuing up the steps alone.  The uneasy feeling Robin had grew stronger as every fiber of his being told him not to leave the King alone.  He saw Prince John follow his brother into the castle.  However, the Sheriff and Gisborne stayed outside, confusing him.  Why would the Prince leave either one of them outside when he knew that one of them had the Piece of Eden...unless the Prince took it from one of them!

He stepped back from the stairs, as the rest of the guards surrounding them settled themselves in their positions.  He knew that they would not be harmed, at least not yet, not while the King was inside talking with his brother.  However, if the Prince did have Hadiya's partial Piece of Eden then they needed to do something.  The Sheriff and Gisborne were out here which meant that they had been placed to keep an eye on them, to make sure that they did not do anything rash.

The Sheriff probably commanded the Prince's forces that surrounded them.  As Robin looked around him, he saw how the archers along the walls were relaxed, but ready to shoot if the need arose.

“Robin...” Carter's whisper of his name made him turn slightly towards him, all the while seeing both the Sheriff and Gisborne's hawkish gaze upon him, watching his every move.

“ _We need to get inside_ ,” he murmured in Arabic as he turned his back to the two and gestured for his gang to come closer.

“ _Why?_ ”

“ _I think the Prince may have the partial Piece of Eden_ ,” he replied.

“Plotting something again, Hood?  Another jail break?” the Sheriff suddenly called out, and Robin turned slightly, giving the most sardonic smile he could manage.

“Always,” he replied before turning back around to address his gang.  He saw that Tomas and the rest of the Private Guard had not approached, but rather were standing loosely, their postures attentively listening to what he had to say.

“How much black powder do you have?” he asked Djaq, who blushed at the surprised looks from Carter and Altaїr.

“I, uh-”

“Djaq, I know you stole the ledger out of the fire and I know you made some and gave it to Rowan,” he said and she smiled sheepishly.

“Not enough to take out all of the soldiers,” she replied, gesturing with her head to the small pack on her horse.

“Is it enough to create a distraction?”

“Y-Yes,” she blinked.

“Much, I need you to find Rowan and tell him that it's time,” he said.

“But Master, what-”

“Just tell him,” he shook his head, “he'll know what to do.”

“But I can't just open the portcullis...”

“Blow a hole in it,” Allan shrugged as everyone looked at him, “what?”

“Do it,” Robin shook his head, cutting off all comments by the others, “we need to get into the castle-”

“Robin there may be another way,” Marian shook her head, “I can ask Sir Guy-”

“No, absolutely not,” he did not want Marian anywhere near Guy, not after all that had happened.

“Let me try, at least,” she shook her head stubbornly, “let me at least...get the chance to say goodbye to my father.”  The latter half of her words were barely above a whisper and he felt a pang of pain in his heart as she withdrew into herself.

He sighed, biting his lip as he shook his head.  “Fine,” he would at least allow her that much.  He owed it to Edward's memory and his hope for their future.  She was still grieving and if things did not go as planned, perhaps she would be out of the way, safe and protected inside the castle walls.

She briefly touched his arm before moving away from them, headed to talk to Gisborne.

“Robin...”

“Get the black powder and create the distraction,” he ordered Djaq who nodded and using two of the Private Guard, who had moved towards the small group as a shield, slipped to her horse's saddle to grab whatever black powder she had with her.

“Wait, aren't we letting Marian-”

His glare towards Allan was all that shut the other man up before Djaq came back and handed out the small tubes of black powder to the others.  Robin shook his head as the Saracen woman tried to give him one.  “They'll be watching me closely.”

“Then what are we supposed to do with these?” Little John asked, holding up two tubes of black powder.

“Juggle them?” Will suggested.

“Juggle?!  That's well, um,” Much looked a little ill at the prospect.

“Here, give me that,” Carter took the tube from Much's hand before glancing over to Altaїr, “knives?”

Robin saw Altaїr give Carter a long look before pulling three knives from his belt and handed them over to him.  He was a bit curious as he saw Carter step away from the group, deftly hiding the black powder tube from the watchful eyes of everyone as he approached Tomas and clapped him on the shoulder, making small conversation.  Tomas apparently played along well and Robin grinned before moving towards young Ollie who stood closest to where Marian was now talking to Guy.

The rest of his gang took it as their cue to disperse as they all watched Carter now to see what he would do.  Robin had faith in his friend and instead, listened to the exchange between Marian and Gisborne.

“Sir...” Ollie shifted on his feet as he stood next to him.

“Easy, Oliver,” he replied quietly.

“Sir Guy, please,” Marian was saying, “I would like to see my father's body.”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot allow that,” Gisborne sounded reluctant which surprised Robin.  The last time he and the man had talked, he had been convinced that Gisborne had chosen a darker path to walk, but perhaps he had been wrong...  “You are an outlaw now and are not awarded the right to anything-”

“Guy, you know it is me,” Marian sounded like she was about to burst into tears and Robin wanted to go and comfort her, but it would solve nothing and it was most definitely prevent Gisborne from acceding to her request.  “Even if I am an outlaw, that's my father...he...”

“Marian,” Gisborne sounded resigned, “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one can enter,” Gisborne pursed his lips together before shaking his head, “I am sorry Marian-”

The jolting sound of a small explosion cut through their conversation and all turned to see Carter blinking and waving a hand away from a small cloud of smoke that had once been a makeshift target, Tomas, Harry, and Daniel coughing lightly from the smoke.  Several of the Prince's soldiers were also coughing.  Robin realized that Carter had used the three knives to show off to the others, even though the Private Guard knew he was good, he was doing it for the benefit of the Prince's soldiers, to distract them with the first three knives thrown before throwing the black powder tube, small enough to be the size of a knife.

“What is going on?!” the Sheriff immediately headed down the stairs, pushing his way past the guards.

Robin looked towards the portcullis was and saw Altaїr discreetly blocking another small cloud of smoke in one of the corners of the portcullis by leading his horse around.  Much must have been told to take advantage of the distraction that Carter had created to slip through to get Rowan.

“Is it customary to hide explosives where a guest of the Sheriff of Nottingham would be able to harm himself?” there were only a handful of times that Robin had ever witnessed Carter using the full force of his position and title, so to watch him whirl around and step forward before the Sheriff could assert himself was quite entertaining.

“I, uh,” the Sheriff was taken aback, but Carter barreled over his attempt to say anything else.

“I am appalled at the state of things here, _Sheriff_ of Nottingham,” the Knight Templar continued, “the severe lack of discipline and the way your soldiers hold themselves.  Why are there no patrols out there?  Do you plan to horde all of your soldiers in here?  Fearing retaliation against these _outlaws_ you so fear?!”

“Now see here-”

“No, you see here Sheriff,” Carter crossed his arms across his chest, “I will be having words with the King when he is finished looking through the evidence.  The state of the shire is of great concern to him.”

Robin tried to suppress the snickers that threatened to come out as he saw Vaysey actually cowed by Carter's words before he drew himself up and shot his most imperious look at the Knight Templar.

“And who, would you be?  Hmm?  One of the Private Guard?  Taking Robin Hood's place when he came crawling back from the Holy Lands?”

“That would be Captain Robin of Locksley to you, not Robin Hood,” Carter drew himself up, a dangerous glint in his eye, “and I am Captain Carter of Tulane of the Fifth Column of the King's own forces, Knight Templar.”

Robin saw the Sheriff pale at the mention of Carter's last title and knew that it was visible proof that he had been colluding with Leopold, or at least some faction of the Knight Templars.  The hasty smile the Sheriff suddenly gave to Carter belied his nervousness, “Ah, well, forgive me.  I did not recognize a fellow esteemed member of your Order-”

“Flattery will get you no where, Sheriff,” Carter shot a withering look at him before the distant roar of many people was heard and his friend casually turned his head to stare at the portcullis, “and it seems the lack of discipline from your own soldiers is infectious.  Oh look, a populace revolt.”  Just as the words fell from his mouth the portcullis leading into the castle ground rattled on its hinges.

Robin grinned as the guards and soldiers around them shuffled nervously as the portcullis shook again, and he saw Geoffrey's men backing up, along with the rest of his gang, letting the Prince's soldiers take point.

“This is it sir,” Ollie whispered next to him, his hand on his sword, ready to draw as soon as the gates broke, “good luck.”

“Godspeed to you too,” he muttered as he hurried away from him and inched towards the main door into the castle.  He saw Carter also casually making his way towards him and slipping past the distracted soldiers who did not even pay any attention to him because of his deceptive priestly-looking robes was Altaїr.  If any of them could make it in to rescue the King from whatever nefarious plans his brother had for him, then he would trust his life with the two of them.

“Robin,” Little John fell into step next to him.

“John stay out here with the others.  We'll handle it inside and as soon as we get the King out, make sure that the others are ready to go.  We make for London,” he ordered quietly, as the gates continued to shake.  Tomas who had been standing next to John also nodded before slipping away to relay his orders to the others.  He did not see Marian, but hoped that she would realize what was happening.  He knew that his gang would not leave without her, knowing that out of everyone in the group, she was the one the Sheriff would most likely use to get to him.  They would protect her, he was sure of it.

“Brace the gate!  I don't want anyone-” the Sheriff's orders were cut short as the portcullis suddenly gave a huge groan then splintered into a million pieces as it exploded, sending shards of wood everywhere.  The smell of black powder filled the air as the roar of the peasantry from Nottingham and from the villages within the shire engulfed the courtyard.

“Now!” Robin shouted as he drew his sword and shoved two of the Prince's guards away from him, charging up the steps.  He did not look behind him as he swung his sword this way and that, blocking and pushing the guards away.  Chaos erupted around him, the screams and war cries of the Private Guard and his gang filled the air, mingling with the angry roar of a populace who was sick and tired of the Sheriff's ill treatment of them.

He blocked another blade angled towards him and moved to block his left when his sword clanged against another one and Robin looked up to see Carter who had also moved to block his blade, before grinning at his friend and together they kicked two of the Prince's guards away.  Carter grabbed at the handle of the door as Altaїr leapt down from whatever perch he had been on, his hidden blade buried deep in the neck of a soldier.

Robin nodded and Carter opened the door and together the three of them slipped into the castle.

                                    *                      *                      *

As soon as the big heavy doors closed behind them, silence reigned, the sounds of the chaos outside muffled.  Several thumps rattled the door, but no one came through, but Robin continued to hold his sword aloft, wary for any more soldiers that may have been waiting inside.

“The most likely place for the King to be held at....”

“The Great Hall,” Robin replied to Carter's not-quite question, “come on.”  He was about to take the lead when Altaїr tugged on his chainmail, stopping him.  “What is it?”

“Leopold carries with him the Piece of Eden that you carry a part of,” the assassin warned him quietly and Robin ignored the raised eyebrows Carter shot at him at finding out the secret only a handful of others knew.

“So?  Mine is just a partial Piece-”

“He carries the full Piece of Eden, an ornate staff.  I did not see it amongst the guards that were slain in the initial ambush back in the outskirts of Sherwood Forest, which meant that he has it upon himself.”

“Come on, if he's smart enough, he would have been in London now-”

“If you had the chance to influence the fabled King of the Crusades, would you be waiting in London?” the master assassin challenged him and Robin narrowed his eyes.

“Why didn't you tell me this earlier?!” he hissed, a little more than angry.

The assassin met his gaze evenly, “My concern is Leopold.  Not King Richard, not any of this.”  The implied statement to leave Leopold to him was not lost on Robin as he nodded once, his anger slowly fading.  He understood where his friend was coming from – after all, he did not have to help them nor did he have to help protect Marian in his absence, but he did so because while it was convenient, it was also a gesture of friendship.

“The Great Hall is this way,” he gestured roughly with his sword to the direction they were going in, showing that he forgave Altaїr, but he also understood his intent.

As they slipped deeper into the castle, the sounds of battle slowly died away though the occasional rumble still meant that someone was still throwing black powder this way and that.  It was a reassuring sound that told Robin his men and the peasants that had risen up to fight for Nottingham and King Richard were still battling out there.  However, the deeper they went, the more Robin's worry increased from the lack of guards, even in the halls that he knew led both to the dungeons and to the Sheriff's own private quarters.

“Where are the guards?” Carter muttered uneasily as they came upon the doors that would lead into the Great Hall.

“Robin,” Altaїr suddenly pointed with the tip of his sword towards his boot and Robin saw that it was glowing faintly, right where he had kept his partial Piece of Eden.

“Oh no,” the uneasiness he had been feeling exploded into outright dread as he pushed open the door and ran into the Great Hall, skidding to a stop at the sight he saw.  “Your Majesty!” he shouted, horror filling him at the sight of the King standing in the middle of the room, seemingly enveloped in a sickening glow, swaying a little.  “Your Majesty!” he shouted again and saw Duke Leopold stare up at them before gesturing curtly with his arm as several well-armed and dressed guards ran up the stairs towards them, intent on stopping them.

“No you don't,” he muttered as he hefted his sword and leapt down from the top of the entrance, bypassing the stairs.  He landed heavily and rolled to his feet sword held aloft before attacking the guard nearest to him.

He felt nauseated as he tried not to stare at the sickening glow that enveloped his King.  He saw that the source of the glow came from a small object in Prince John's hand, the younger of the two brothers with a sadistically delighted smile on his face.  He heard Carter's shout of anger behind him as he also leapt down from the top before several gurgled screams told him that Altaїr had joined in the fray.

Robin slashed wide, catching the guard he had been fighting across his stomach, spilling his guts across the floor as he folded to the ground, trying to save himself from so much blood lost.  However, Robin kicked him viciously in the head, and brought his sword up to parry another blow that was aimed at his shoulder.  He let the anger of what was happening to his King fill him and punched the man in the face.  However this guard was smart and dodged his blow before retaliating with his own mace.

Ducking under the spiked metal ball, he pulled out his dagger and quickly stabbed him in the chest, killing him.  How dare they attack his King, to try to twist and turn him like they had tried to him a little over a year ago in Acre?  Robin launched continued to work his way through the attacking Guards, noting that they were a lot more well trained than the Prince's own guards on the outskirts of Nottingham.  These were men who had fought in the Crusades, men like him and he knew he could show no mercy to them.

He let loose a war cry before slashing this way and that, sending blood into the air.  What blades he could turn in time struck him only glancing blows, but Robin ignored the pain of his shallow wounds as he slowly made his way towards his King.  Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw both Carter and Altaїr expertly work their way through the Germanic soldiers, the three of them working in concert in order to get closer to the King.  He flipped a soldier over his own body, stabbing him in the neck with his curved blade before ripping his dagger across the man's face, felling him.  No mercy for what was done here today.  No mercy for the Knight Templar who sought to corrupt his King and no mercy for the Prince of the realm who sought his brother's lands by capturing him.

Something within him told him that what was happening was _wrong,_ but he quashed that part ruthlessly.  It was not wrong to protect the King, to kill those who would harm him.

“For England!” the words came unbidden to his lips and were echoed by Carter as the two of them fought back-to-back, Altaїr flitting a dance of death with both his short blade and hidden one.

“S-Stop...stop them!  Stop them!” Leopold's panicked shout only made a smile appear on Robin's lips as he knew that they were getting closer and closer.  He wiped the sweat and blood out from his eyes as he continued forward, his blade singing its terrible song of death, coating it further and further into the blood of the Guards that were determined to stop them.

The darkness that was within him laughed at the carnage he was wringing, at the destruction and death of so many.  He laughed along with it; Altaїr was right, his footwork had been shoddy, his time spent in the calmness of being an outlaw atrophied his skills.  But not anymore...now was the time to use those skills to protect the King, protect those that would harm him, harm the ones that he had loved-

“ _Enough!_ ” Altaїr's voice suddenly reverberated through the air, shattering Robin's concentration as he buried his blade into the thigh of a screaming Guard-

Robin drew in a sharp breath as he blinked and straightened something seemingly snapping into place in his mind, suddenly awakening with a bright light.  Where was he- what was he doing- what...what happened?  The stuttering breath of someone in front of him made him look down to see that his blade was still embedded into the Guard's leg, the light in the man's eyes slowly fading as he breathed his last and hung limply on his blade.

Horror filled him as he shook the soldier's body off of his blade.  What had he done...?  What...  He looked around him to see everyone shaking their heads as if coming out of a trance of sorts.  The mutilated bodies of those that had fallen earlier carpeted the ground, staining the wooden floors black with their blood.

“No!” Leopold's strangled cry made Robin look up to see the Grand Master of the Knight Templar suddenly flee, a glowing staff in his hand.

“No, wait- Altaїr!” Robin called to his friend as the assassin suddenly rushed past him and set off in pursuit of the fleeing Duke.

“Get them!” Sheriff Vaysey's voice spoke from the top of the stairs and Robin turned to see more soldiers racing down the stairs.

“The King!” Robin turned to see his King picking himself up groggily from the floor.  Across from him Prince John still laid on the ground, seemingly unconscious, the partial Piece of Eden that had been glowing from his hand nowhere in sight.  He hurried over to help the King up and Carter assisting him as the two of them faced the remnants of the Duke's guards and the fresh reinforcements the Sheriff brought with him.

He realized that Altaїr must have done something to break the spell the Piece of Eden's hold on them as they had fought.  His friend was right in saying that the Duke held the staff Piece of Eden.  Shoving the thought to the side of the implications of what had almost happened, what he had almost fell into again, he hefted his blade warily, his breath coming in quick short gasps.

“We need to get the King out of here,” Carter muttered next to him as they kept their grips tight on the King's arms, all the while inching towards the lower set of doors that led to a different way out of the castle.

“ _W-What..._ ”

“ _Your Majesty, we need to get out of here_ ,” Robin replied in French to his King's groggy confusion.  He glanced at Carter and shook his head, “Get the King out of here.  I'll hold the guards.”

“What?!  Are you insane!  I don't even know-”

“Corridor to the right after the doors, head straight and it will loop back to the main halls,” he replied curtly before roughly shoving the two of them away and flourished his sword, stepping forward.

“Robin-”

“Carter do it!” he ordered just as the first enterprising guard attacked.

He heard Carter scrambling behind him as he leapt forward and slashed the tip of his blade across the man's throat and spun around to counter another one.  Letting his boots slide across the wet floor, he knocked his whole body into a mess of the Prince's guards and allowed himself a grim smile to see that he had toppled most of them to the ground before getting to his feet and hurried out the door that Carter had exited.

He had told Carter to leave, but he also did not want to linger in the room filled with so much death.  Fighting back a wave of nausea that threatened to engulf him as he remembered the last time he had done such a thing,  he hurried down the corridor, the Sheriff's aggravated shouts echoing in the Great Hall before the thundering of boots along the stone corridor told him that he was being followed.

The directions he had given to Carter did not lead back to the main corridors, but rather it led to the kitchens, a safer way out of the castle than through the main doors.  The occasional rumble pounded against the castle told him that his gang and the others were still holding their own and he breathed a quick sigh of relief.

“Over here!” he saw some of the Prince's guards entering the hall he was in and waved towards them before they skidded to a stop and turned to follow him.

He would lead them on a chase away from Carter and the King to give them time to escape.  After all, Nottingham castle's halls were very familiar to him.

“After him!” several of the guards shouted as Robin ran quickly towards the main doors.  He arrived shortly and glanced at the double heavy oak doors that rattled against their hinges.  Already there were several pockmarks in the door and arrows that pierced the whole of the wood, making him wonder what was going on outside.  He wrenched open the door, leaping to the side as it fell to the floor, its hinges finally collapsing under so much abuse.

Day light spilled into the darkened area and what greeted Robin was a sight he thought could only exist in Acre.  The courtyard of Nottingham castle had become a war-torn battlefield.

                                    *                      *                      *

Carter of Tulane followed his King as he had regained his wits and senses shortly after they had escaped the Great Hall.  “ _Milord, I do not think that this idea-_ ”

“ _Quiet, Carter_ ,” the King of England silenced him with a slash of his hand, “ _we are not pleased with what has happened._ ”

“ _Yes, even so, it is not-_ ”

“ _When we wish your advice, we will ask for it_ ,” his King cut him off as he drew out his sword and stalked forward, passing by pots and pans of what looked like a kitchen.

“Robin's going to kill me,” he muttered as he followed his King.  His friend had never seen the King angry, had never seen him furious.  But Carter had and when King Richard the Lionhearted got angry, one never wanted to be around to feel his wrath and learn why he had the epithet of Lionhearted.

“ _Our brother_ ,” Richard seethed out loud, “ _how could he?!  How could he do such a thing?_ ”  More colorful words emerged from the King's mouth that Carter could only imagine that perhaps he had learned from Salah al-Din or even King Phillip of France when the two signed their treaty so long ago.

“ _Milord that is why we need to leave this place.  To regroup-_ ”

“ _We will_ not _leave_ ,” the King spun around and stared at him with a shrewd look, “ _we will rectify this situation.  And we will be victorious_.”

“ _A-As you wish_ ,” Carter knew that he could not dissuade the King anymore as he marched out of the kitchens and held his sword up high.  He could only follow and pray that the King would not get himself killed for what he was going to do.

“ _VICTORY!_ ” the King shouted charging into the fray and Carter lifted his sword up to follow.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            No historical notes to add, just a little character note.  King Richard was famous for riding in the battle with his men, leading the charge and making sure that his men saw him actually fighting on the battlefield instead of hanging in the back like many rulers did.  This is also what made him immensely popular amongst those that fought in the Third Crusade – to the point where King Phillip of France and Duke Leopold V of Austria were jealous of his popularity.  His seemingly reckless charges onto the battlefield also got him eventually killed in 1199 while he was leading raids against a French noble’s lands.

            Richard was also a strategist and both he and Salah al-Din were like kindred spirits in terms of battlefield prowess.  The two even sent goodwill to each other whenever they were not fighting.

            Altaїr’s sparring session with Robin is a little shout out to Solace of Silence’s last chapter when the two would fight.  It is also my attempt to show that Robin’s skills as a soldier, like any other who is not constantly on the battlefield anymore, atrophies in a somewhat noticeable manner.  However, with Robin being an outlaw, he has kept some of the skills up, but not the skills he needs to protect the King and do what he needs to do to protect his friends.  Plus it was an excuse for me to say Altaїr kicked his butt once again…

            See you all next chapter!


	8. Return to the End - Part 2:

Robin Hood: Return to the End

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in mid-November when King Richard returns from the Holy Land.

 

**Story:**

_Part 2 – Sacrifice_

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

The sounds of battle were all but silent as Altaїr slipped deeper into the winding maze that was Nottingham castle.  His prey was nearby; he could sense it and feel it in his blood and bones.  Today another one of the nominal leaders of the Templar Order would fall and it would be by his blade.  He slipped in and out of the halls recognizing as he followed Leopold’s trailing form headed near the dungeons.  Catching glimpses of the man’s trailing cape and clanging of chainmail, he easily caught up and flicked a knife just so towards the man, making him stumble and fall as he burst through a set of double doors that belonged to a massive bed chamber.

“G-Guards!” Leopold V, the Duke of Austria stuttered with fright as he shuffled back with his hands towards the walls, still clutching his staff, its glow having long faded in the chase through the castle.  The four members of his personal guards that had fled with him turned around and stepped forward, their spears and halberds held at the ready.  “S-Stop him!  Stop him!”

“Step aside and you will not be harmed,” his eyes flashed dangerously under his hood as he slowly advanced forward, “there need only be one death today.”

The four silent sentinels did not respond and instead charged at him.  He twirled out of the first spear jabbed him before stabbing one of the guards in his eyes, piercing the man’s brains before pulling his thin hidden blade out.  The man dropped backwards like a heavy sack, and at the same time Altaїr kicked up the guard's fallen spear into his own hands.

Gripping it tightly he lunged forward, nicking another one in the chainmail as he flicked his main hand, blocking and turning aside the jab the guardsman tried to inflict upon him.   Using the other end of his spear at the same time, he stepped forward again and smashed the man’s left knee, making him howl in pain before shutting him up abruptly by reversing his grip and stabbing him through the throat.

Altaїr pulled out the sharp end of the spear and quickly blocked two blows to his head by the remaining guards before winding one with a quick jab to the gut, making him bow forward.  He shortened his grip on his spear and whirled it around his head in a slicing blow, catching the tip of his blade across the man’s throat and using his momentum, sent the rest of his spear crashing down upon the other guardsman’s face, slicing half way through his forehead and only wedging it halfway in his head.  Blood spurted out of both guardsmen’s wounds before they toppled to the ground and Altaїr stepped back, staring at Leopold who was clutching the Piece of Eden staff in his hands as he stared at the brutal killings of his own guardsmen.

“P-Please spare me…” Leopold’s eyes tracked from the pools of blood to him as he took a step forward, his hidden blade released in his hand, ready to deliver the fatal blow.  “I’ll…I’ll g-give y-you anything you want!  Power!  Money!  I’ll leave you and the Assassins alone!”

“You have hunted my people down like dogs and seek to corrupt the minds of others,” Altaїr was disgusted that a man could even think of begging like this.  “You clutch that thing in your hand like it is some toy.  You would use it to corrupt others and only think of yourself.  You are no better than any Templar who thinks to wish of peace through blood!”

Leopold’s eyes bulged as if she suddenly remembered he was holding the Piece of Eden staff and he stood up.  “I will _not_ be talked to that way, _Assassin_ ,” the man sneered, his Germanic English barely understandable.

Altaїr had little warning before the staff suddenly glowed, a blinding light that swept across the room and he threw up his hands to cover the harsh light.  Voices, millions of them speaking words he did not understand assaulted his ears and senses, phantom touches that made him slash this way and that with his hidden blade as he could feel something trying to rip at him, claw at him.  He gave a strangled cry as he stumbled back, his feet splashing in the pools of blood, trying to find a way out of the blinding light that was overwhelming him.

He could feel its corruption spreading across his body and skin like the way a bug crawled up a stalk.  He could feel it trying to eat its way into his soul, a lingering darkness that was within him, had always been within him since he had been trained as an Assassin by Al Mualim.  His voice hissed whispers of power, of seductive overwhelming power that could be all of his.  He could use it to smash the rest of the Templars from oblivion, to kill all of those that stood in his way.  He could use that power to force the arrogant Templar Carter to see things his way, use that power to cow Malik into submission to force the one-armed man from ever speaking out against him again.  To force Robin-

To force…

Altaїr choked as he reached out into the blinding light, trying to find some purchase.

To force-

_Maria…_

With a stifling roar that even he did not realize he could produce, Altaїr ripped the Piece of Eden Apple he had long carried upon him and activated it with his will.  Its unholy glow pierced through the sickening one that had been choking him and he could _feel_ its unholy and unearthly powers filling him, bolstering him, sharpening his senses.  He glared furiously at Leopold who was knocked back into the wall, still clutching his staff feebly, as he held the spherical Apple aloft, and its unholy power beating back the one the staff wielded.  _He_ was master of the Apple, master of the Piece of Eden and it obeyed him.

Leopold was only a pretender to the Pieces of Eden, the man was nothing, lower than dirt and was not worthy of the knowledge these objects bestowed upon its users.

“I will not be beaten!” the mad Duke shrieked as he tried to use the staff to counter his own by swinging at him, trying to knock the Apple from his hands.  But Altaїr was too well versed, the leader of the Order, Al Mualim’s successor to let such an upstart Templar leader defeat him.

He sneered as he casually stepped back before staring at the glowing Apple in his hand.  Impressing his will upon it, he _knew_ how Al Mualim had projected himself many times over during their fight over a year and half ago.  _Do it_ , he commanded the Apple and it obeyed.  He saw three more projections of himself, all seemingly a little flesh and blood, ghostly figures, but somewhat of the physical realm, burst from the Apple’s radiant light and approach Leopold whose eyes were as wide with fright.

“What madness is this!” the man screamed as he ducked as one of the phantoms attacked him.  He tried to beat it back and only after landing several blows did the projection disappear.

Altaїr watched with a darkened sense of vicious pleasure as the once proud and haughty Templar leader scrabbled around, fighting the phantoms.  The other two fell quickly before Leopold whirled around to confront him, his body heaving with exertion, his face red with fury as he clutched the staff.

“Is that all you have Assassin?” the Templar sneered disdainfully, “I have beaten your phantoms, I can beat you!”

Altaїr just let the ghost of a smile touch his lips before he felt the pulsating power of the Apple flare briefly and quickly closed the gap before him and Leopold.  He thumbed his hidden blade from its catch and before the man could say anymore, rammed it into his jugular, warm sticky blood pouring forth from the gushing mortal wound.  Pulling the blade out and releasing the catch, he stepped back and watched as Leopold's eyes widened, his hands lifelessly dropping the staff as he clawed at his throat, trying to stem the bleeding.

The Duke of Austria stumbled back into the wall before sliding down; leaving a wide streak of blood that marred the stone work.  “...W-Why...” the man whined petulantly, his breath coming in wheezing, bubbly gasps.

“Because you would have corrupted the very people here who sought freedom from tyranny.  You would have forced them into a peace where they are virtual slaves.  You would have denied them their free will to choose their rightful king.”

Leopold smiled, his teeth stained with blood frothing from his mouth as it dripped down his chin, “You think...you are so clever...Assassin...  You think...you have struck a blow to my cause...”

“I do not think, Templar, I know,” Altaїr replied, kneeling down next to the dying man, the Apple still glowing in his right hand, but more dimly now.  He drew a feather from the folds of his robes and held it towards the man's neck, but did not bathe it yet.

“I was to be a great...r-ruler,” Leopold's eyes had a far away gaze now, and Altaїr knew that his death was almost upon him, “it was supposed to be mine...all mine...”  His gaze became rigid and the last of his life went out of him in a softly rattling breath.  Only then did Altaїr bathe the eagle feather in the warm, sticky blood of the leader of the Templars before putting it back into the folds of his robes.

“Your plans may have been noble, Prince John may have been a better ruler than his brother, perhaps with far more grace, but you would have also destroyed one of my dearest friend's life.  It is for that and for the fact that you have acquired another one of these relics that I cannot allow you to live,” Altaїr said softly to the body as he reached out and closed the man's eyes.

It was only after he stood up and stared at the still glowing Piece of Eden in his hand that he forced himself to relax, willing the unholy object to shut down.  It did so with the utmost reluctance and Altaїr felt as if something in his mind was suddenly free, the dark whispers of incredible power no longer nipping at him.  He shuddered as he placed the Apple in the pouch that he always carried it in – it was a cursed object, one that had shown him so many wondrous technologies that he could have only dreamed of, but there was the underlying siren's call that spoke seductively of what he could have done with it, what more power he could acquire...

Altaїr found himself shaking a little as he sought to wrench his mind from the object, a little more than horrified that even in its inert state it still could influence him so.  It laughed, the laugh of a nameless lover, and told him that he had _enjoyed_ baiting Leopold so, and though he wanted to deny it, he realized that it would only whisper at him if he did so.  So he did the opposite, acknowledging that this was the second time a Piece of Eden had influenced him so within this day.  The first time was when he realized what was happening during the brutal fight in the Great Hall and had used it to counteract Leopold's staff from making him enjoy the slaughter.  This was the second time, the Apple itself influencing him against the staff.

His realization at the facts enabled him to rebuild his mental walls around the artifact's whispers.  Never again, he silently swore, never again would he use it in battle.  It would only be used for his codex, for research.  In battle, the temptation was too much, too great and though he would never admit it out loud, it terrified him that he could fall so easily under its sway.  He thought he had become a more humble person by having to work his way up back to the rank of Master Assassin, but he was no more like his mentor and former teacher Al Mualim.  But Altaїr knew better, where as Al Mualim sought to control the Apple of Eden and turned absolutely mad from it, he would never use against another person.

Free will...that was what was important.  These objects were not objects of free will, they were objects of power and now he fully understood why the Templars sought them.

He knelt down and picked up the staff, noting the ornate design it had.  Gold filigree lined the top sharp edges.  It was designed like the cross, but with three across the top instead of just a single band.  If he was determined to scatter the Pieces of Eden across the world, perhaps this one would stay in Venice, hidden in the bureau's storage rooms, never to be spoken or seen again.  Flipping the staff over its other end, he saw three small nicks, all the gouges pebble sized.  So this was where Robin's partial Piece of Eden came from and Hadiya's too.

However there were three small gouges...which meant three different partial Pieces of Eden.  If Robin and Hadiya's were here, then the possibility that the third one was within the vicinity-

Altaїr immediately grabbed the other pikes and halberds before putting all of them in the corner of the room, hidden away from prying eyes before heading out.  He remembered what Allan-a-Dale and Will Scarlet had told him during their time in camp.  They had been tortured by Gisborne who wielded a Piece of Eden.  But around the same time, the populace of Nottinghamshire seemed to be under an influence of sorts.  Gisborne's Piece of Eden could not have maintained both which meant that the third Piece of Eden had to be here.  If Gisborne's Piece of Eden had been with Prince John, then the other one could only be...

Altaїr ran back to the Great Hall only to find it empty of any living being, but still filled with the mutilated bodies of those he, Carter, and Robin had slaughtered.  Too desensitized to the bodies of the dead, he ignored the blood coating the ground and searched out where Prince John had been standing trying to suppress King Richard's will to his own.  There!  He knelt down and picked up a small pebble-sized object, recognizing it as the one he had taken from Hadiya's body months ago only to lose it while trying to help Robin regain his senses after briefly going mad from the torture the sadistic Templar had inflicted upon him.  He had found one, but the other that was _not_ with Robin...

Slipping it into one of his pouches on his belt, he glanced up as the sounds of battle echoed once more.  He had an inkling of knowledge as to who had the other Piece of Eden and it was imperative that he retrieve it before it was put to use again.  Hurrying back outside, Altaїr saw that the main double doors had been splintered with arrows, scorch marks of black powder being thrown and embedded with several arrows, axes, and swords that were lodged there.

He stepped out, the sounds of battle, cries of the dead and wounded filling the air along with the acrid metallic scent of blood, sweat, and fear – just in time to pedal back a half-step as one of his Order's brothers came flying down from a parapet, hidden blade embedded deep within an archer's neck.  The Assassin brother withdrew his blade and stood up, bowing his head slightly.  “Master Altaїr, it is good to see you well,” the brother greeted, “we were sent by the Rafiq to aid you as soon as possible, but missed you in both Vienna and on your trip to England.  The two others that came with me are somewhere in this god-forsaken battlefield-”

“Find them and tell them to find the Sheriff of Nottingham,” Altaїr quickly ordered drawing his long sword as two more of the Prince's soldiers advanced towards his position, their blades covered in the blood of those that they had slaughtered earlier.

“Who?”

Altaїr had forgotten that these recruits were fresh from Masyaf, unused to the climate here and much less who the Sheriff of Nottingham.  “If there is a Piece of Eden in use, it will be in the hands of that madman.”

“As you command Master Altaїr,” the assassin jerked his head before disappearing into the fighting just as the two soldiers charged at him.

He met their blades with his own and easily sliced through their shoddy guards,  killing them instantly.  Running down the broken steps of stone and woodwork, bodies of wounded and the dead all around him, he tried to find the Sheriff of Nottingham with the special gift he had, but the sea of red-hued enemies was too great, even amongst the blue-hues that indicated his allies.  Reverting his vision back to normal, he decided that the best way was to cut through all of the enemies and hopefully find the Sheriff.  Leaping down from the last few steps, he joined the fray, blade swinging.

                                    *                      *                      *

Marian's arm shook from the force of the parry, exhaustion nearly making her fall down from the blow, but she steadied herself with an arm against the trunk of one of the trees in the courtyard broke the parry before slicing through the guardsman's tunic and chainmail, making the man cry out and fall to the ground, clutching his wound.  Pushing herself, she held her blade aloft, her chest heaving from her exertions.

It seemed only so long ago that the courtyard was tense before the populace of Nottingham and its surrounding villages had stormed the portcullis, blowing it apart with black powder, and rushed in, screaming that they would save King Richard.

“I'll kill you...!” the wounded guard suddenly lurched from where he had been rolling on the floor and Marian started, knocking herself into the branch she had just used as support as she fumbled her sword.

Suddenly the guard choked as a blade protruded out of his chest before falling to the ground, dead.  Marian looked to see who her savior was before dread filled her as she saw Guy standing in the exact spot where the guard fell, his blade coated with more than just the guard's blood, but with the blood of others he had killed since the populace revolted.

“S-Sir Guy...” she whispered before holding her blade up as he took a step forward, his blade held a little off to the side.  “Stay away, Guy.  I don't want to hurt you, but if you come any closer-”

“You'll do what,” the man's eyes shone with a hidden darkness that Marian had thought she had seen when she went to present her request to see her father's body.

“Guy...”

“I have power now, Marian,” he took a step forward and Marian took one back, staring at him warily.  “Power beyond even what you can imagine!”

“You’re mad,” she shook her head, “that power isn’t right.”

“What does it matter if it isn't right?  I can protect you with it!” Guy's face twisted into an ugly expression of hope that she could only recoil from.

She shook her head blindly, finally now seeing, for all the time that the man had been trying to court her, for all of the time that she had felt something for him that he was broken.  So horribly broken...not by torture, not by any outside force, but rather his spirit was broken.  “No...” she whispered, taking a step back, “no...you...you can't.”

“Can't I?” he extended a hand to her, “I will protect you, even if you cannot see it.”

“Can you protect me from yourself?!” she could feel the part of her that had been attracted to him for a long time slowly die, slowly break.  She had always loved Robin and she would freely admit that she used Guy, but a part of her was always hoping, wishing, praying that perhaps Guy would become a better man with her influence.  She knew that Robin had seen it, had been jealous, but had learned from his jealousy and matured from it.  Gisborne had not.  He had let it twist him, drive him, and ultimately made him choose the path that diverged from hers.

She did not care if the mystical Piece of Eden that everyone talked about was to blame, but she knew that it the object was only but a part of the whole that made up Guy of Gisborne and it was the final nail in his coffin that had made him turn against the good that she had thought she had seen within him.

“What do you mean by that?” Gisborne swung his sword casually, but Marian did not back away now, she refused to.  She stood her ground, refusing to be half-afraid, half-awed by his darkness and twisted love for her.

“Guy, there's still a chance,” she saw him pause, evidently surprised that she was not backing away from him, “throw it away.  Throw that damned object away.  You don't need it to achieve power.  Save the King-”

“The King has no power here,” Guy glared at her, “he has never had power.”

“Do you really want to see everyone that you know die?!” she gestured to the battle raging around them, thankful that none of it had spilled into their vicinity, but she would not hold out hope for long.

“They deserve it!  They rebelled against their rightful ruler-”

“Do you want to see _me_ die?!  Like my father did?!” she shook her head.

“That’s why I can save you-”

She shook her head again, “If it means living a lie, living without my friends...”  Her breath hitched as she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, “Living without Robin...”

“I knew it,” he sneered, “you always loved Hood.  You just used me to feed information to him.”

“Yes,” she lowered her sword and stared at him with a simple gaze, “yes I did.  And I am sorry and I know you won't accept-”

Gisborne snorted anger visible on his face.

“Then kill me now,” she finished, realizing what she had to do to save Guy of Gisborne.  She loved Robin with all of her heart, but she also loved Guy in her own way.  She did not love him like she loved Robin, but rather felt sorry for him.  She had truly thought that he could overcome his need for power and for influence and actually do something good, but now...  _I'm sorry Robin_ , she sent the prayer to her love, not knowing whether or not he was alive or dead, in the castle or in the courtyard fighting for his very life right now.

He shook his head, “You're not serious.”

Marian took a step forward to him and Guy stepped back one step, his blade held up in an abortive attempt to ward her away, “I am.”

“No-”

“I am,” she repeated her affirmation taking the last few steps forward and closing the gap between them, “kill me now because you will never have me.  Because I refuse to live in a world where Robin is dead.”

“M-Marian...” this time she heard the fear in his voice and looked up into his eyes, the darkness warring with the fear of having to slay her making him tremble.  Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him lift his sword up, but his hands were shaking.  “D-Don't...”

“Do it,” she challenged him, her voice firm.

“Marian-”

Guy's eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his head and Marian gave a squeak of surprise, backpedaling a few steps as he suddenly pitched forward boneless to the ground.  Behind him stood Little John, a satisfied look on his face as he held his quarterstaff.  She looked from him to Gisborne's prone body and back again before John shrugged.

“He's still alive,” the older, gruff woodsman didn't look too pleased, but nonetheless gestured for her to follow him.

“Where are we-?”

Marian did not get a chance to finish her sentence when several of the Prince's guards charged at them, having slaughtered several peasants and she lifted her blade to counter the first one who attacked.  She blocked left and right, all the while backing up and keeping herself near Little John who was fairing better than she was, twirling and twisted his quarterstaff this way and that, deflecting the blades of at least two of the guards with uncanny ease.

“Get behind me!” the big man shouted as she barely parried another blow, her inexperience with actual fighting instead of fighting and running making her painfully aware of her lack in skill in that aspect.  She already sported some shallow cuts due to the initial barrage of when the populace of Nottingham and the surrounding villages spilled into the courtyard from panicked soldiers and general mayhem.  But otherwise had managed to fend off those who had tried to attack her.

She moved closer to him, still defending herself, but unwilling, due to no small amount of pride and perhaps her own bit of foolishness, to completely depend on Little John to protect her.

“Marian, get behind me!” the bigger man insisted with a firm shake of his head as more soldiers charged at them.

“I will not hide while the rest of _you_ ,” she slashed at a soldier with a wide angle, making him back away, “defend me like I am a little girl!”

“We need you at the medical tents!” John grunted with effort as he pushed two soldiers away, knocking them into three more who tumbled to the ground in a heap.

“I'm not some invalid!” she managed to inflict a slicing wound into a shoulder and threw a glare at Little John.

“No, you are not, but Djaq needs your help!  You are the only other one that is able to help the wounded and stitch up battle wounds!” the gruff woodsman replied and Marian blinked in surprise.

“Oh,” she did not know what to say after that statement.  She felt a little sheepish for thinking that the rest of Robin's men sought to constantly protect her and only knew how to do so by shoving her into a medical tent where she would hopefully not be able to wield a sword or defend Nottingham.  She had some experience tending to her own wounds and the wounds of others during the years Robin was away and had even stitched up Robin's arrow wound the day she was trying to enter Clun which had been quarantined.  And if Djaq needed her help, especially with the King's own physician Jacques around, that meant that there were a lot of wounded amongst the peasantry and perhaps even the King's own men.

“This way,” John whacked a few more soldiers on their heads, dropping them to the ground before leading her through a gap in the attacking soldiers.  Marian followed close to him as they pushed, shoved, and ducked underneath flying blades.  She recognized some of the faces fighting amongst the peasantry and a part of her grimaced as she saw some of those people fall.  Many she had helped during her time as the Nightwatchman, many recognized her as Lady Marian outside of the nobles' court.  All were fighting for the King she realized, all were fighting for Nottingham's freedom from Sheriff Vaysey's tyranny.

The flash of two familiar looking axes followed by a pained grunt made Marian turn slightly to see Will falling to the ground and barely scrambling out of the way of one of the Prince's soldiers wielding a wicked looking broadsword as it slammed into the ground.  “Will!” she called out before tugging at John's rough hewn coat, “we need to help him!”

The bigger man nodded before charging at the soldier and caught him unawares with a blinding sweep of his quarterstaff across the man's helmet, sending him spinning off kilter and tumbling into several people, knocking them to the ground.

“You all right?” she asked, helping Will up to his feet, noting that the side of his face was covered in blood from a nasty looking cut on his head, but he looked otherwise fine.

“Yeah,” the young carpenter took deep breaths before looking at her, “Djaq's been asking-”

“I know, I was on my way there, but you looked like-”

“Look out!” Will managed to pull her to the side just as Little John flew towards them thrown back from the soldier who was wielding the giant broadsword, his helmet off; blood caked one side of his face from the blow that he had taken seconds ago.

“A little girl and a boy...I eat people like you for breakfast,” the soldier sneered at him, “I am one of the Prince's most prized  fighters, and it will be my pleasure in seeing the two of you die.”

Marian spared a quick glance at Little John, seeing the bigger man groan a bit before half attempting to stand up, but quickly sat down again from what was obviously dizziness.  At least he was all right, she thought as she held up her sword in a defensive position, Will readying his axes next to her.

“Keep the others off of me,” Will suddenly muttered and Marian glanced at him.

“What?”

“I'll handle him,” the youngest member of Robin's gang replied before suddenly charging at the soldier with a wild cry.

“Will-”  Marian articulated her frustration with a quick shake of her head before kneeling down and helped Little John get to his feet.  Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Will resume his battle with the soldier, his arms awhirl with quick and deft movements of his axes.  She had only glimpsed of the young carpenter’s battle skills through small skirmishes in the past year, but what he displayed was something different, an almost innate talent at fighting with his axes.

She suspected that Robin may have something to do with helping Will improve, but wasn’t sure.  As Will jumped into the air from a low sweep of the soldier’s broadsword, battering aside the blade and managing to inflict a small cut on the man’s arm; she managed to pull herself away from the fight as Little John grasped her arm tightly and started to pull her away.

“But Will-“

“Djaq is just beyond there, near the portcullis,” Little John pushed her in the direction towards the broken portcullis, before turning around and charging back to where Will was.

Marian grimly smiled as she continued on her way, glad that Little John had stayed behind and helped Will instead of insisting on escorting her to where Djaq was.  Through the pockets of fighting, she saw that several small tents had been set up near the corner of the massive courtyard, piles of rubble and burning fires surrounding the tents.  She stepped to the side as a small melee broke through with one of the Prince’s soldiers running away, pursued by several children who wielded sticks and threw stones at him.  Marian was about to shout at the children, recognizing the small group from Knighton, but a sudden familiar cry grabbed her attention instead.

“Allan!” she saw grab his leg, an arrow stuck through it, before tripping and falling down the stairs and landing with a howl of pain.

She quickly hurried over, ignoring the flashes of blades near her before kneeling beside the gang’s resident thief.  “Allan!” she gently touched his head and saw his eyes squint open.

“Marian…” he grimaced as he tried to get up, but fell back again, wincing and gritting his teeth together, “I think…broke my arm…”

“Don’t move,” Marian looked over to see that indeed Allan’s arm hung at an unnatural angle.

“L-Leg…” he pointed towards his legs and she shook his head.

“Arrow, clean through, broken,” she dared not touch the leg, noting the small amount of blood seeping through the shaft.  At least the arrow had gone clean through the leg and while most of it had been broken off, there was still some of the shaft left that perhaps Djaq could pull out without too much trouble.  She knew what happened if an arrow was left in the body without any way of getting it out.  The blood would be slowly poisoned and thereby sickness settled within, slowly killing the person with fever, delirium, and finally death.

It had happened to her mother in a hunting accident when she had been very young.

“Marian look out!” Allan suddenly shouted and Marian only had his eyes widening in warning before she suddenly dove out of the way, crashing into the ground.  Rocks and dirt bit into her face as she rolled onto her back to see one of the Prince’s soldiers lifting his sword up in an effort to chop her in half before she rolled out of the way again.

She lashed out blindly with her legs, catching the man’s chainmail as she tried to kick him away.  He fell with a grunt and she scrambled to her feet, her hands scrabbling for her sword before she managed to pick it up and hold it in front of her just as the soldier recovered.

“M-Marian…” out of the corner of her eye, she saw Allan trying to pick himself up to help her to fight, and shifted her feet to shield him.

The soldier only leered at her before taking a step forward and abruptly stopped, his eyes blinking in surprise before he suddenly toppled over, a short sword embedded into his back.  Beyond him, Marian saw Carter running over to them, having thrown the sword and pulled it out of the dead man’s body unceremoniously before nodding once to her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, but Allan…” she turned back to where Allan was, gasping as he cradled his broken arm.

“Come on,” he hefted Allan to his feet, and Marian tried to ignore the yelps of pain he made before moving to help Carter stabilize him under his other arm, making sure that she did not jar the broken bones too much.

“Little John says that Djaq’s over there,” she gestured with her chin towards the small tents.

“Let’s get him there,” Carter said and the two of them headed off.

*                      *                      *

This was madness, utter and pure madness, Carter thought as he hacked a soldier’s arm off and stabbed him in the gut before pushing the body off of his blade in disgust.  He lifted his sword again and plunged it deep into another soldier’s neck the spurt of blood catching half of his face before he spat it back out and whirled away.  Near him was the King, killing the soldiers that dared attack him, but most of all, aiding the peasantry that had rallied around his initial call.  It was as if someone had driven the Prince's own soldiers into frenzy while he, Robin, and the assassin had been busy rescuing the King.

Some yelled inarticulate roars as they met their deaths swiftly by his and the King's blade.  He usually enjoyed the battles that he fought, seeing it from not the smoke-colored lenses that Robin usually saw as casualties and lives lost, but rather, to him it was for the better that these wretched beings would not live to serve their cause and one less enemy his King would have to face.  That was how he saw it being the King's personal spy and confidante.  He knew that others thought him bloodthirsty, but he did not really care for their assessment of himself.  All that mattered was that those his King had announced to be enemies fell by his blade.

But this...

This he could not find any joy in.  This was madness and senseless slaughter.  Granted they were Prince John's own soldiers, but they were also well-trained brothers-in-arms.  He knew that the King and his brother had an uneasy relationship, yet there was no conflict between them, unlike what Richard had with his own father the previous King.  How the Prince's own forces could readily attack the King of England and Norman lands was inconceivable.  The enemy was Salah al-Din, the enemy was Duke Leopold V of Austria's forces; the enemy was not a fellow Norman to whom he had just sliced the man's head off with his blood-covered broadsword.

He could not leave the King's side nor could he dissuade his King from leaving the battlefield, not when his liege and lord's own blood had been raised to a fighting frenzy.  Carter parried and hacked away at another soldier, spilling the man's guts across the ground before glancing over to the King who finished stabbing a soldier in the back before stepping back and letting several peasants finish the man off.

“To me!” the King shouted waving his arms around and plunging back into the fray.

Carter batted aside a blade before punching the soldier in the face, sending him reeling as he hurried over to where the King was.  He could only catch glimpses of the rest of the Private Guard during the battle, but knew that each one of them was trying to make their way towards the King to protect him as best as they could.

“Milord!” he shouted as he cleaved another man in half, blood spraying into the smoky air, as the King took a step back, breathing heavily as no other combatant came their way, occupied with either the peasantry, members of the Private Guard, or some of the Sheriff’s old guards who had risen in rebellion with the peasantry.  He did not know where Geoffrey and his patrol group were, perhaps somewhere in the melee, and had only caught a glimpse of the Saracen woman Djaq running across the battlefield, helping some of the wounded.  The other members of Robin’s outlaws were no where to be seen and neither was Robin.  He hoped his friend was still among the living…

“ _Milord we need to_ -“

“ _We will not leave_ ,” the King scowled at him.

“ _I know that milord, but we need to find a defensible_ -“ he kicked out catching a soldier in the stomach and folding him in half as he fell to the ground and kicked him swiftly again in the head, knocking him unconscious.  “ _We need to find a defensible position!_ ”

“ _This is defensible_ ,” the King replied.

“ _The tents_ -“ he gestured roughly towards several small tents that had been hastily erected as soon as the battle had started while he was inside the castle.  He had ordered Jacques to tend to the wounded as soon as the battle had started.

“ _We have sent Tomas and Oliver to defend it_ ,” the King replied, “we will not allow our presence there be the rallying point.”

“ _But milord_ -“

“ _Those that can be saved will be saved, those that cannot, will fall_ here,” the King emphasized his last word with a sweep of his sword.

Carter could only shake his head at the tone.  Anyone else would have faced the King’s wrath in such a blatant display of insubordination, but he knew he could get away with it.  There were times during his service to the King that he had thought him foolish and reckless and this was one of them.  However noble it was, the King wanted to make his stand here so to spare the wrath of the Prince’s soldiers from attacking where the tents were, drawing their ire away from the tents and towards him.  If he was to make the tents his defensible position, it would only serve to hinder the efforts of those who were trying to save the lives of the wounded.

But if the King himself were to be wounded in this battle…Carter shook his head again as he stepped a bit away from him as a flash of white followed by the cries of several soldiers falling made him focus on the source.  He smiled a little as he saw Altaїr and what looked like another one of his kind cutting through several soldiers with practiced ease.

So the assassin had called for reinforcements…and they must have just arrived or else he was sure that he would have noticed them on their way to Nottingham earlier.  Though he would always hold the assassin and his kind in contempt for what they had done in Masyaf to his own column, he was still grateful for their assistance in this battle.

“Captain!” Daniel’s hoarse voice made him turn a little to see the guardsman leaping off of a small stone wall and head towards them, sword in hand, bow slung across his shoulder.

“Where is Harry-“

“Captain we need Robin on the battlements-“

A familiar cry rendered the air and the two of them looked up to see Allan falling from the stairs to the battlements an arrow through his leg.

“Bloody hell,” the guardsman swore, “Allan said that he was okay handling it up there.”

“Never mind that,” Carter could already see several soldiers heading towards Allan and dread filled him as he also saw Marian making her way towards the fallen man.  He had not really known the outlaw during their brief time on the road to Nottingham, but the man the others called their resident thief and con man had seemed an okay sort.  He had haunted eyes, especially when he was sitting next to his apparent best friend Will the young carpenter, like he had seen too much to ever be himself again.

“But sir-“

“Where’s Harry?” he asked.

“Over there…”

“Defend the King, I’ll get Allan to the tents,” he replied before reaching down and grabbing a short sword from one of the fallen soldiers and threw it at the back of a soldier who was trying to cut Marian in half.

Taking advantage of the small path he had created, he ran towards the two of them and pulled out the short sword before sticking it into his belt and looked at them.  “Are you hurt?” he asked, nodding at her.

“No, but Allan…” she gestured to the prone man and Carter shook his head before bending down and hauled the man to his feet, slinging his unbroken arm across his shoulders.

“Come on,” he saw that Allan’s other arm hung in an unnatural angle, while his opposite leg was bloodied with an arrow shaft sticking out of it, broken, but still visible.  That was good, Jacques would be able to pull out the shaft without any problems and hopefully the younger man would not lose the limb.  Marian got under Allan’s other arm and gingerly took the broken arm over her shoulder as the man moaned in pain between them.

“Little John says that Djaq’s over there,” she gestured with her chin towards the small tents.

“Let’s get him there,” Carter did not allow the surprise to show on his face as they headed towards the tents.  He had heard the rumors about the wonders of Saracen medicine, rumors that said they were far superior then just bleeding out a patient and using poultices and herbs to heal the sick.  From what he could gather about Robin’s small band of outlaws was that Djaq was chiefly the group’s physician and healer and apparently judging by her knowledge, an alchemist of sorts too since she had made small tubes of black powder.

Little John apparently had been and outlaw long before any of them and even had his own merry band, but due differences, they had split when the big woodsman had decided to follow Robin’s more noble cause.  The only opinion Carter had of Robin’s efforts here in England was that he understood what his friend had tried to do and what he had been forced to do.  He would have never expected less of Robin to help those who were less fortunate than he, it was what made him such an effective leader of the Private Guard, but it had also brought him the attention of the King to try to protect him from the horrors of war as much as possible.  Unfortunately, being Captain of the King’s Private Guard meant that the horrors would be there no matter what.

As they came within sight of the small tents, Carter saw that indeed Djaq was running about, carrying bandages and directing another woman as they worked their patient.  Beyond them was Jacques tending to the more minor wounds of others.

“Captain!” Ollie called out from where he perched above the tents.

“I got him,” Marian said as he shifted from underneath Allan’s arm and she took him the rest of the way, calling out for Djaq who looked up from her patient and hurried over to them, helping Allan to another table, yelling for Jacques to help her lift him up.

“Ollie, get to the King, he’s over there!” he called back to the youngest member of the Private Guard.  The young man was probably no older than Corin who had been one of their reliable pages.  Corin had fallen in battle during last winter as the King had tried to make a desperate push towards Jerusalem.  Corin and Oliver had both been pages and had been drafted into the Private Guard’s ranks by Tomas after he had taken over for Robin last year to bolster their numbers.

“But sir, Captain Tomas-“

“I’ll handle it here with Tomas!  Get over there soldier!” he called back and the young man nodded before scampering away, firing several arrows as he made his way across, felling several soldiers with his uncanny ability.

Carter knew that Robin had been teaching Corin and Oliver how to fight and shoot a bow and arrow during their years in the Holy Lands, to better protect themselves as pages, he had told the others.  Apparently it seemed that Ollie had some of Robin’s own uncanny ability with the bow and arrow.  He glanced around for a second, but could not see any hide or hair of Robin in the mass of people.  He thought he caught a glimpse of Much, but wasn’t too sure.

“Carter!” Tomas’ deep voice called above him before he caught a bow and a parcel of arrows thrown down to him.

“Thanks!” he shouted back up before stringing the bow and let loose several arrows, killing and wounding the soldiers that were crowded too close to the tents.  He could hear Djaq’s voice behind him as she ordered Marian and the other girl she had been working with, Bridget, to grab certain things as they worked on Allan.

Sighting down again, he fired a few more, his aim not quite as accurate as Robin’s but at this close of a range, it did its work and disabled more soldiers.  He could see that the tide of the battle was turning, slowly, but steadily.  Some of the Prince’s soldiers were already surrendering or running away from the castle in fear.

“Archers!” Tomas’ voice made Carter look in the direction the man was pointing.  He cursed and notched another arrow before letting it fly, hitting one of them in the shoulder and spinning him to the ground.  However, it alerted the others from their attempt to ambush the King and Carter ducked as several arrows whistled past them.  He responded by firing the rest of his arrows, felling them all and turned back to grin at Tomas.

His grin froze on his face as he saw Tomas swaying from where he stood before the man fell from his perch.  Carter scrambled to his feet and rushed over just in time to catch the man in an awkward attempt before his head could hit the ground.  The smile fell from his face as he saw that an arrow had pierced Tomas’s chest and he was already coughing out blood.

“D-Did we…get them?” blood foamed at his mouth, mixed with spittle before he coughed again, wincing as he tried to grasp the shaft that was embedded within him.

Carter grabbed his hand and pushed it to the side, shaking his head, “I’m sorry…Tomas…”

The older man nodded weakly, understanding that he was going to die and he could not do anything about it.  “The…King?”

“Harry, Daniel, and Ollie are with him,” he replied, biting his lip.  It was easy to fight back the tears, having held the hands of so many dying men before Tomas.  But somehow, this death was worst than the others.  He supposed that it was probably because of the fellowship between the five of them when they had all been captured in Vienna, their refusal to betray the King.  Perhaps it was because Carter understood where Tomas had come from, seemingly a peasant from the lower ranks.

But he knew the truth.  Tomas was not a peasant like all others, Robin included, had thought him to be.  He was a noble, a disgraced one, but a noble nonetheless.  He had trained Robin, had even given up his right to be Captain of the Private Guard so that another man, a more worthier one in Tomas’ opinion, would be able to protect the King.

“And…R-Robin…?” his breathing increased now, more blood pouring out of his lips and Carter knew that it was not long now.

“I do not know,” he said, shaking his head.

Tomas smiled weakly before reaching over and grasped his hand firmly, “T-Tell him…tell him that he made me proud.  That I…was proud to…serve with him.”

“I will.”

“C-Carter…m-my lands…”

“I will see that they are in trust, my friend,” Carter replied.

“Give them…to Robin,” Tomas’s breath hitched slightly and for a second his grip was painful before Carter felt them slacken just as the light of life went out of the man’s eyes and he exhaled his last breath.

Carter shook his head as he loosened his hand from the man’s limp grip and closed Tomas’ sightless eyes.  Allowing only one tear to be shed, he got up and settled Tomas’ hands peacefully next to his sides.  “Rest well, my friend, your battle is finally over.”

He straightened and picked up his sword just as a wave of white light washed over the area, blinding everybody and everything.

                                    *                      *                      *

Robin blocked two quick strikes from Vaysey's sword before half-spinning and attacking with his own curved Saracen sword.  The Sheriff had chased him down into the courtyard battlefield and with little fanfare, attacked him.  At first, he had thought it easy to defeat the Sheriff, after all, he had done it once with little to no trouble, but it seemed that Vaysey had not shown his true fighting capabilities back then.  What he had thought to be a short battle had now had him fighting for his very life.

“This will be the end of you Hood!” Vaysey's eyes gleamed with rage as he swung his sword again.

“Big words,” he huffed back, dodging the blow before countering with his own.  He was blocked at a side angle before the Sheriff broke his guard and lunged at him.  Robin danced back from the tip of the blade, slapping it aside with his own.

“It should have been mine!  Mine!  Hood!” the Sheriff screamed at him as he attacked again.

Robin blocked this way and that, all the while backing away from his ferocious strikes.  He had to give the Sheriff some credit; the man knew how to fight with a sword.  Granted he had always thought him to be more of a politico than a sword fighter, after all that was what Gisborne's job was, an enforcer, but the Sheriff was not a man to be underestimated.

“You wanted nothing more than to corrupt the minds of others!”

“I was promised absolute power!  And _you_ ruined it!” Vaysey hissed as Robin side stepped away from a swing that would have taken his head off before stepping forward with his own attack.

He swung in overhead strikes and side swipes, trying to find a weakness in the man's defense, but the Sheriff blocked his attacks easily and Robin could feel his own wounds protest with such mistreatment.  However, he ignored them and concentrated back on the battle at hand.  Exhaustion was pulling at the corners of his senses, but he refused to give in.  The Sheriff needed to be stopped from this madness.  He only hoped that Carter had gotten the King safely away from Nottingham.

“I will _not_ be denied!” the Sheriff screamed as he suddenly went on the offensive.

Robin’s eyes narrowed as he hastily blocked the Sheriff’s terrible blows, dodging this way and that.  His feet scrabbled across the ground when suddenly Robin tripped over a body of a peasant that had fallen in the earlier stages of the battle and felt a hot stinging pain rake across his chest.

He grunted in pain as he clapped his free hand and glanced at it, noting that it was covered in blood.  However, the seeping didn’t seem too serious and he rolled out of the way to dodge another blow, coming up to his knees and raising his curved Saracen blade just in time to block an overhead blow.

“Sheriff!” the youthful voice of Rowan screamed before the Sheriff was knocked to the ground by the young man.  Robin grimaced from his wounds as he saw Rowan trying to stab at the Sheriff with his sword before the Sheriff heaved the young man off of him.

“Rowan no-“

His protests fell on deaf ears as the Sheriff laughed, scrambling up to his feet, and immediately attacking Rowan.  Robin bit his lip as he sought to steady himself on his feet, one hand pressed against the wound across his front, the other digging his sword into the ground and pushed himself up, hunching over from the pain.  “Rowan!” he shouted, “get away!”

“You’ll pay for killing my father!” Rowan did not hear him and screamed obscenities and curses at the Sheriff.  The dust kicked up from their battle made Robin shield his eyes, but he pushed himself forward.  The Sheriff was a dangerous opponent and he knew that the man had no qualms about killing Rowan if need be.

“Master!” Much’s frantic voice spoke next to his ear just as a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him up.  Robin nearly cried out from the jarring movement, but aborted it just in time to see Much holding him up, his former manservant’s sword bloodied, and covered in soot, dust, and some blood, but looked otherwise hale and healthy.

“Much, don’t worry about me-“

A sudden sharp cry rendered the air and Robin looked up in time to see Rowan collapse to the ground, blood blooming on his shirt from a stab that the Sheriff had apparently made.

“Master-“

“Rowan!” he ripped himself out of Much’s grasp and charged forward, ignoring the sharp pain echoing across his chest and slid on his knees next to the young man just in time to block the killing blow from the Sheriff.

“Hood…” the Sheriff’s black eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Vaysey,” he grunted out, ignoring his wounds and pushed himself to his feet, still holding the block.  To his dismay, he noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly against the guard.

“R-Robin…“ Rowan’s voice was weak.

“Get him out of here Much!  Get him to Djaq!” he ordered tightly, not looking at Much, but at the Sheriff.

“But-“

“That’s an order!” he put as much force as he could in his command and out of the corner of his eyes, saw Much roll Rowan to his feet and loop his arm around his shoulders before taking him away.  “Now, Sheriff,” Robin forced his tone to be even, to not betray the intense pain he felt from what he had originally thought was a glancing wound, but judging by how much of his own blood spilt against his chainmail, was more serious than he had originally imagined.  “Why don’t we finish this…?”

“Yes,” the Sheriff’s lips twitched up in a sinister smile, “why don’t we.”

The two of them circled around each other in small steps blades still tightly pressed against each other, the sounds of battle raging around them, all but ignored.  This was their personal battle, the moment of truth that had been long in the making.  This was the moment where the Sheriff of Nottingham would meet the greatest enemy he ever had, Robin Hood.  This was the moment where Robin knew he had been fighting all of his life for including the Crusades.  Kings were made; Princes were crowned Kings, but none of it mattered to the Sheriff and to Robin.  All that mattered was that one of them was going to walk away from this and in that moment, they would be the victor.

The sudden flick in Vaysey’s hands was all the warning Robin got as he immediately held up another guard as the Sheriff broke the stalemate by launching a series of attacks.  He deflected up and downwards before spinning his hands to the side.  Dancing back, Robin suddenly whirled out of the way before countering with a strike of his own.  He managed to catch a few strands of the Sheriff’s hair and a grim smile appeared on his face.

Pressing his advantage, he shuffled two steps forward, pulling every trick that he had learned and had been taught by everyone he knew about sword fighting.  However, the Sheriff dodged most of his blows before Robin brought up another hasty guard that was immediately knocked down.  Cold sweat stung his eyes and matted his hair down across his face as he kicked up a handful of dirt in an attempt to ward the Sheriff off.

His ploy worked as Vaysey staggered back, scratching at his eyes and Robin took the moment to catch his breath, the air around him misting from his exertions.  He blinked his eyes against the passing dizziness that suddenly assaulted him and shook his head.  He needed a clear head and he needed to finish this battle fast.  He was already losing a lot of blood judging as he instinctively curled his free hand against the wound across his chest.  Summoning up his courage and his fortitude, Robin surged forward, his sword twirling down in an overhead strike to the side as he let loose a roar from his throat.

The Sheriff blocked his blow, but Robin kicked him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.  He pushed forward; trying to land another strike against the Sheriff, but the man rolled out of the way and lashed out at him.  Robin suddenly screamed as he felt a sharp shooting pain stab into the back of his leg and fell to the ground, clutching at his right leg.  His sword clattered to the ground as clutched at his leg, noting that it was one of his own arrows that had been embedded in the back of his leg.

“Got you now!” the Sheriff crowed and Robin looked up to see the glint of Vaysey’s sword coming down towards him and rolled to the side, a strangled cry emerging unbidden from his lips as he felt the arrow shaft snap in two before scrambling for his own blade.

He managed to pick it up with the tips of his fingers and held it aloft to block another overhead blow, his knees digging hard into the dirt-filled ground.  The shocks and waves of agony traveled up his injured leg as he felt sweat and tears streaming down his face.

“You…haven’t won…yet,” Robin gritted his teeth as he strained across the force of the Sheriff’s blow.  He could _feel_ the swirl of inhuman power around the man, could _feel_ the temptation to use the Piece of Eden, but ignored it as he pushed with all of his might against the stalemate.  He would not let the Sheriff win and he would not use the Piece of Eden, not after all that he had been through.  The object was damned and it was cursed and he would not let it win today.  He would not let it and the Sheriff win…

“Oh, but I have,” the Sheriff sneered before Robin suddenly freed his left hand, dropping his blade lower, but still managing to preserve the guard, and seized the Sheriff’s right one, stopping a small stiletto blade from piercing him in his neck.

His arms shook with the dual effort of maintaining his grip on both his Saracen sword and on Vaysey’s hand.  With eyes darting back and forth between the shaking blade and the stiletto inching closer and closer to his neck, he tried to summon the strength, but found that exhaustion was rapidly closing upon him since all movement halted in this new deadlock.

Vaysey mouthed wordless whispers of anticipation as he inched the stiletto closer and closer to him and Robin was hard pressed to keep his grip upon the Sheriff’s right hand.  Blood, mingled with sweat made his grip slippery and with blood pouring out of his chest wound and his leg feeling as if it was on fire, it made him faint.  His breathing increased as he tried to keep his grip and fear started to creep upon him.  He did not want to die this way, he wanted to die old, he wanted to die saving his King.  He could not let it end this way!  With whatever was left of his strength, Robin bit his lip hard, feeling the metallic taste of blood pour into his mouth as he directed the stiletto away from his neck.

Just as suddenly, his grasp on Vaysey’s hand slipped and Robin sucked in a quick breath as he felt like something punched him hard, the stiletto plunging deep through his chainmail and into the right side of his chest.  He felt his grip slacken on his sword, his body suddenly becoming numb as the metallic taste of blood increased in his mouth and he felt something drip down the side of his lip.  He tried to reach up to touch it, to wipe it away, but his hands wouldn’t work.  It was as if the world suddenly slowed around Robin as he looked up into Vaysey’s smiling face, his sinister smile pulled across in full.

The noise of battle around Robin was eerily muffled as he continued to stare at Vaysey.  There should have been pain as he looked back down at the stiletto embedded into him.  He knew that there should have been, but why did not feel it?  Robin knew that there was an advantage to be pressed here, yet, nothing seemed to work.  He blinked, as he saw Vaysey’s shadow stand up before him or was it across him?  He could not tell, as he felt his own body fall to the ground.  His vision became sideways and he tried to blink the dust from his eyes, try to reach out and wipe it away, yet he could not command his hands to do so.

The exhaustion crept up on him now and he was tempted to surrender to it, to let someone else take up the burden…

The burden…

The burden of saving…saving…

_“FOR_ _ENGLAND_ _!”_

Robin’s eyes snapped open as he heard the roar of the Lion echo across the battlefield.  The King…his responsibility… _the King_ …  Robin choked and coughed out blood as he tried to move.  He could feel the pain now, its fiery claws raking across his body.  He tried to extract the stiletto that was still in him, but the effort of even touching its simple handle made him nearly howl in pain as he spat out another wad of blood.

He looked up and saw Vaysey advancing towards where King Richard was waving his sword around, standing on an overturned cart, rallying the populace to him.  Carter was near him and to his dismay; he realized that the King had returned to fight instead of leaving this godforsaken place.  “No…no…” Robin muttered as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, coughing again and spitting out more blood.  He needed to stop Vaysey, stop him from using the partial Piece of Eden he carried, to stop him from corrupting and harming his King.

He needed-  There!

Robin spotted his bow and arrow pack where he had left it on his horse, the steed having fallen in battle and crawled towards it.  He gnashed his teeth together against the pain as he slowly crawled towards his weapons and grasped his bow with a shaking hand.  His other hand grabbed his arrows and accidentally spilled it across the horse’s saddle and out of reach.  Robin managed to snag at least one arrow before the rest rolled out of reach and took deep and heavy breaths, fighting against the fatigue, fighting against the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him.

If he was to die, then he would not die in vain.  He would stop the Sheriff and he would end this madness.  Before he died, he would save his King.  He needed this extra bit of strength, needed it to save his King.  With an effort, Robin forced himself to his knees, the dizziness making the world spin around him as he tried to blink and shaking his head against it.

Notching the arrow against the string, Robin drew back on his recurved Saracen bow, suppressing a cough and surge of pain that pulled against the stiletto embedded in his chest.  He was an expert marksman and he would prevail.  Robin plunged deep within him, finding his center, and forced his muscles from shaking.  He would not fail…  He lined up his shot against Vaysey who was waving his sword wildly in the air, his free hand holding the glowing Piece of Eden as he ran towards the King.

He would not fail.

Robin released the arrow just as the last bit of strength left him and collapsed to the ground.  He only had a brief hazy vision of the Sheriff pitching forward before everything turned white and Robin embraced it, allowing himself to finally surrender to it before the dark blackness overtook him and he knew nothing more.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            Several character deaths just occurred and there are more to come.  No historical notes except perhaps what you already know.  King Richard loved to fight and would jump into the battle next to his men.  It’s what also got him eventually killed, but nonetheless he was loved all the more for it.  I’ll explain why I killed off certain characters at the end of this story which should be the next part (barring an Epilogue extra chapter).

The Piece of Eden staff that Duke Leopold V wields is the papal staff that Rodrigo Borgia/Pope Alexander VI wields in _Assassin’s Creed II_.  I wanted Altaїr to be the one who keeps it in trust and over the years it gets lost and ends up in the hands of Borgia.  Hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it so far!  Next chapter brings about the conclusion of the _King Richard Trilogy_ and my Robin Hood alternate universe of stories!


	9. Return to the End - Part 3: Atonement

Robin Hood: Return to the End

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place in mid-November when King Richard returns from the Holy Land.

 

**Story:**

_Part 3 – Atonement_

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Altaїr covered his eyes at the brief blinding glare that shot across the castle and battlefield.  He opened them again and saw the Sheriff of Nottingham fall to his knees, clutching his wounded hand, screaming in pain, an arrow embedded in it.  The blinding glare was familiar enough that he recognized it as from a Piece of Eden.  Before anyone could move, he crossed the short distance separating them and searched around the area where the Sheriff had fallen to his knees, ignoring the hissing pain of the Sheriff next to him.

There it was, he knelt down and picked up the small pebble-shaped Piece and hurriedly pocketed it just as King Richard approached, two members of the Private Guard trailing behind him.  Around them, the others were slowly getting up and he noticed that many of Prince John’s own soldiers, those that had survived so far were shaking their heads, seemingly dazed.

That confirmed Altaїr’s suspicions that it was the Piece of Eden that the Sheriff had been holding that had driven the soldiers into a fighting frenzy, causing all of the slaughter and battle that had erupted in the courtyard.  A quick glance towards the broken portcullis told him that the fight had not only been confined to this area, but had also spilled out into the streets of the town.

“Do you surrender?” it was a bit hard to work his mind around the accented English the King spoke now – English not being his primary language – to the Sheriff as Altaїr stepped back a few steps.  But the meaning was clear by the way the King pointed his sword at the man’s exposed neck, seemingly oblivious to him clutching his bloody mutilated hand and moaning in pain as he rocked back and forth on the ground.

 As he looked at the mutilated hand, Altaїr felt the corner of his lips quirk up in a wiry smile as he recognized the design of the arrow shaft and feathers.  It was one of Robin’s arrows and expertly shot to dislodge the Piece of Eden the Sheriff must have held there.  He glanced up and looked around, trying to spot his friend in the crowd of dazed soldiers, peasants, and survivors.  He would have usually expected Robin to appear by now with his customary not-quite humbleness towards any expert shot he had fired.  If it had been a sword strike, Altaїr knew that Robin would retreat into a semblance of humbleness, but when it involved his bow and arrow, the humbleness would vanish in an instant, the man taking pride in his gift with the bow.

His smile disappeared as a small pit of worry reasserted itself as he looked around.  There was no sign of Robin…

“I surrender,” the Sheriff's hissed whisper was barely heard, but the King resheathed his sword and gestured to two of Geoffrey's men to pick him up and take him away.

All of that faded into the background as Altaїr looked around, seeing many of the Prince's surviving guards throw their weapons down in surrender, the peasantry herding them into a general group.  Others were helping their wounded comrades up and he saw three of his fellow assassin brothers assist those that had fallen.  But there was still no sign of Robin.

He spotted Marian near what looked like an area of small tents by the corner of the courtyard, a majority of the wounded slowly making their way there and walked over there, the jangle of chainmail behind him telling him that Carter the Knight Templar had followed him, also coming to the same conclusion.

He saw her leave the area and hurry over to where Much was helping a young man, the same young man he recognized Robin talking to as they rode into the city hours ago.  There was a flurry of hand gestures and words said that he could not catch from where he was, but then she looked beyond where Much had pointed behind him and she took off.

Altaїr frowned, a sense of worry filling him as he hurried his pace, ignoring his own minor wounds that twinged and made themselves known, and caught up to Marian.

“Lady Marian...?”

“Much said that Robin was here, somewhere, fighting the Sheriff,” she gave him a wan smile, but Altaїr was not fooled by the worried and heartsick look she wore.  It should not have been his concern; he could hear Malik’s phantom voice chiding him with the trivialities of even searching for Robin amongst the dying and dead of the battlefield.  The excuse that he had on the tip of his tongue was that Robin had the last partial Piece of Eden that belonged to the staff crumbled in light of his real reasoning.

Robin was a friend.

He had long thought Robin a kindred spirit of sorts, an ally, not a friend, but his own actions in the past few days, his own reasoning coming here, even the gruffness that he had treated his own mission and tried _not_ to help the King was in a way all because he wanted to help Robin.  The irony was not lost on him, an assassin helping the Crusaders he had sought to fight; a most unusual friendship to say the least.

“The Sheriff is over there…” Marian did not finish her sentence as she trailed off, visibly suppressing the tears that threatened to spring to her eyes.

But Altaїr knew what she meant by those words.  If the Sheriff was there, and Much had pointed in a different direction where Robin had been last seen fighting the Sheriff, there was a chance that Robin may be wounded or beaten.  There was no way the both – the three of them with Carter who had silently approached, a hand pressed across his stomach, knew that Robin would ever give up fighting the very man that had condemned him as an outlaw.

Altaїr raised an inquiring eyebrow at the Knight Templar who coolly returned his gaze before he shrugged.  Either Carter did not care that he was somewhat seriously wounded, especially with blood seeping out in between his clasped fingers, or he was ignoring it in favor of making sure that Robin was all right.  There were additional streaks of blood across his dirtied uniform and chainmail, but they did not seem to discomfort him, which meant that they were from others.

“I will search around where the Sheriff fell,” Altaїr said and received an absent nod from Marian who had begun to look over the fallen bodies.  Carter took the area in between the two points, stumbling slightly before righting himself with his grip on the hilt of his sheathed sword tight.

If the man wanted to be stubborn, it was not his place to urge him to seek care.  Besides, as much as it went against Altaїr’s grain, the man was still a Knight Templar, especially one who used to be under Robert de Sable’s command.  He may have pledged his undying loyalty to the King, but a Templar was still a Templar.

Altaїr returned his gaze to the bodies strewn across the ground, making note of each and every face he came upon, some of them dead, some still alive.  He knelt down occasionally to place a comforting hand on some of the more mortally wounded peasants and soldiers.  It was some compassion that drove him to do so, to reassure them that their passage into whatever was beyond this world was welcomed.  He was neither a Christian nor a Muslim and thus believed that there was no God, not after having been drilled in the tenets of the Creed and for what he had witnessed during the summer of last year.  Perhaps there was something beyond this world, but he knew that he would not see it for a long while.

“…No…no, no, no,” Marian’s cries were soft at first, but Altaїr caught them nonetheless and looked over to where she had been searching before his heart skipped a beat in trepidation.  He saw the open shock on Carter’s face before hurrying over to where Djaq was by the tents and she turned, looking at him with her curious eyes.

However, it was Much who asked the question, having been helping Djaq make the young man to whom Robin had been speaking to earlier comfortable.  “You found him?”

Altaїr immediately knew that he could not conceal the news from Robin’s most trusted friend and former manservant.  He would not reveal it, but just the fact that Much had been fretting over his former master’s absence and the fact that he knew his devotion to Robin concerned him.  He could not order the man to stay at the tents no more than he could order him follow him.

“He is…wounded,” there was barely a pause in Altaїr’s reply, but he saw that Djaq caught his hesitation before narrowing her eyes slightly.  Truth be told, he did not know how wounded Robin was; all he knew was that Marian’s cries told a lot.  She was a strong woman, much like Maria in respects, but having met her before and knowing how much she cared for Robin, she would not break down in such a fashion unless the situation was dire.

Luckily Djaq was a smarter woman than many had thought and nodded once before looking to Much, “I need you to stay here and make sure that Rowan’s wounds don’t reopen.  I’ll make sure that Robin’s not having trouble walking in here.”

“But-“

“Much, please,” Altaїr could see that her smile was very forced before he reluctantly nodded and Djaq patted him on the shoulder.  She understood the need of not having a potentially hysterical man when she attended to Robin.  “Lead the way,” she gestured for them to leave.

Altaїr led the way out of the small maze of tents, some of which had been hastily erected since the battle’s end.  A rather large tent sat near the others, one of which stood the banner of King Richard outside it along with a few fire pits.  He saw the King’s personal physician scurrying in and out of it, occasionally carrying a few scraps of bandages, other times poultices and ointment jars.  There was one of the members of the Private Guard outside of the tent, still wounded, but otherwise standing stock still against any intruder.  He did not see their older leader, Tomas and wondered what had happened to the man.

“How bad is he?” Djaq’s quiet whisper made him glance down and back at her and saw that she was looking a little drawn.

“I do not know,” Altaїr confessed and she looked at him, her brow wrinkling in concern.

She opened her mouth to ask the next question, but he continued, “ _I do not_ want _to know_.”  The admission, even in Arabic was a rather large one and Djaq sensed that as she immediately closed her mouth, setting it into a thin line.  However that was not to last as her expression morphed into one of dread before she brushed past him and ran towards where Marian sat on the ground, cradling Robin’s unmoving body.

Carter had knelt down next to her, trying to pry her away, but moved as soon as Djaq appeared and Altaїr stopped, standing away from them, trying to be an impartial observer.  Robin’s eyes were closed and his mouth slack, blood dripping down a corner of his lips.  An ordinary looking stiletto had been embedded in his right chest while a wicked slash across his abdomen spilled bright red blood.  It looked like Robin had been fighting with that severe of a wound before he had been felled by the stiletto.  In one of his hands was his familiar curved Saracen bow, confirm what he had known – Robin had shot the arrow that had pierced the Sheriff’s hand and had ended this horrific battle.

He saw Djaq quickly put two fingers under Robin’s jaw before starting in surprise.

“He’s alive!” she glanced between him and Carter and Altaїr sprang into action.  He had thought Robin dead, seeing no noticeable visible rise and fall of his chest.  Mentally slapping himself for thinking such dark thoughts, he immediately hurried forward as Carter grabbed a banner and two makeshift poles before tearing a few strips of cloth to make a makeshift stretcher to bear Robin away.

“He’s alive, Marian, he’s alive,” Djaq had knelt by Marian’s trembling and crying form as she continued to cradle Robin close to her.

“No, no, no, no…” Marian continued to cry before the sudden echo of a slap to her face startled her out of her funk and she blinked, as if seeing Djaq for the first time.

“He is alive,” Djaq’s voice was hard and firm.

“H-He is?” Marian looked a little bewildered for a second before Carter placed the stretcher near them and Altaїr knelt down next to Marian.

“He can be saved,” he added quietly, staring deep into her eyes.  This close to Robin he could see that he had the shallowest of breaths; his friend was still alive, but only just so.  Something flickered in Marian’s eyes before she nodded, gulping down her tears before allowing him and Carter to gently move Robin’s limp form to the stretcher.

“You’re wounded,” Djaq’s frown became even more pronounced as she stared at Carter whose wound was freely bleeding now that he had to use both of his hands to lift up the end of the makeshift stretcher, Altaїr taking the other end.

“It is of no concern,” Carter replied tightly before they headed back to the tents.  However, as they got closer, Altaїr slowed down, noticing that many of the peasantry and soldiers that had been wounded were crowding around the area, demanding to be seen by the physicians of the town all whom were probably arriving from the lower towns.

“King’s tent,” Carter called from behind and Altaїr moved past the edge of the crowd, headed towards the King’s tent.  He was met with a slightly challenging stare from one of the members of the Private Guard, a young lanky boy who was sporting a few cuts, but looked otherwise none the worst for wear.

But the young man’s gaze slid to whom he was bearing and immediately stepped aside as he and Carter brushed past him before entering the King’s tent.

“I beg your apology Your Majesty, but there was no other place we could take him,” Carter immediately said in English to the King who had been sitting in a chair on the far side of the tent, about to ask who would interrupt him. Altaїr caught the flicker of rage before a more neutral expression asserted itself into the King’s features as he saw who they were bearing before quickly gesturing and chattering in rapid French, pointing towards a small straw covered mattress that had been laid out for him.

Altaїr did not understand the French, but he understood the gesture and together he and Carter placed Robin’s prone form on the hard bed.  Immediately Djaq was by his side as Carter and the King left the tent.  He heard more orders being shouted outside, vaguely recognizing the French words for fire and for fresh clean bandages.

“Djaq-“

“I need you to get me my provisions from the tents.  Bring them here and bring me a bucket of clean water along with several bowls,” Djaq turned to Marian who had entered, stopping her before she could get any closer.

“But-“

“Marian, please, do it,” she shook her head minutely and Altaїr watched as Marian fought against her warring emotions as she bit her lip and nodded before she all but fled from the tent.

“ _Altaїr can you find Much-_ “

“ _Carter will be able to prevent Much from entering_ ,” Altaїr replied in Arabic, shaking he head gently as Djaq continued her examination of Robin.  He could still hear the Knight Templar outside, calling for the others to quickly attend to their tasks.

Her eyes flicked towards him for a moment before she nodded in resignation, “ _Very well.  We will need to remove that dagger from him-_ “

“ _Wait_ ,” Altaїr stopped her as she clasped a hand on the hilt of the stiletto and bent down, peering closely at the design of the blade.  There were grooves all along the blade, instead of one single piece of fire-tempered Damas steel.  From a distance, it had looked like one smooth piece, but upon closer inspection…  He cursed softly at the ingenuity and design of the blade.  The Sheriff was a lot cleverer than any of them had given him credit for.

“ _What?_ ” Djaq prodded him.

“ _If we remove the blade from him right now, he will bleed to death_ ,” Altaїr replied, “ _This blade was designed to inflict a wound that cannot be sewn up, only cauterized, by this exact blade_.”

“ _I have heard of blades like these, but they are only used by cowards…and assassins_ ,” Carter’s quiet voice spoke from behind and Altaїr turned slightly to see him shrug, having entered while he had been talking with Djaq, “ _present company excluded of course_.”

“ _No need_ ,” Altaїr replied, giving the Knight Templar a tight smile, “ _we use them to great advantage_.”  He lifted his left arm up a bit to show the bracer where he knew that Carter knew his hidden blade sat nestled in its sheath.  The hidden blade itself was not like the stiletto that was embedded in Robin, but its design was very similar.

“ _So then what do we do?_ ” Djaq looked at a loss, “ _we need to remove the chainmail from him so I can attend to his wounds_.”

“ _This blade is also what’s keeping him alive_ ,” Altaїr said grimly, “ _if we remove it now, he will die.”_ He paused for a few seconds before shaking his head, _“Tend to his other wounds, I will…consult with my brothers regarding the nature of this wound.  Remove his mail all the way up to his chest, but do not remove it completely off.  The blade has pierced some of his mail and has pinned it to place_.”  He gestured to how the top half of the stiletto was making a very shallow, but noticeable impact point where it had pierced Robin’s right side.

“I brought the…” Marian’s subdued voice spoke up behind them and he turned to see her fighting back tears as she held an armful of bandages, poultices, and assorted things that she thought Djaq would need.

“Thank you,” Djaq moved away from Robin’s side, taking the things from her arms and putting them on a small table that was near where Robin was lying.  Altaїr was about to open his mouth to say that Marian should leave when Djaq looked at him square in the eye.  “I will need an assistant.”

“What about that girl you were working with-“

“Bridget is dead,” Djaq’s expression became pinched as she cut Carter off, “an arrow struck her…”

There was something in Carter’s expression that warred with the stoic, neutral one he wore and Altaїr wondered what had happened before the Knight Templar grimly nodded.  “I will stay then-“

“You,” Djaq looked pointedly at his wound to which he was still pressing a hand to it, almost unconsciously, “are wounded.  See to your own wounds.  Marian will be fine.”  She directed the last statement to the two of them, her gaze even.  “ _I will need silver, any silver you can get.  The castle has an alchemy room where you can find the necessary ingredients_.”

Altaїr raised his chin up in surprise as he realized what she intended to do.  He had not thought her capable of such ingenuity and thought that her only knowledge of medicines came from what she had to do to help the outlaws in the forest.  Then again, her brother, whom he had saved from Majd Addin, had been one of the Order’s best chemists.  Silver nitrate, the most basic of chemicals that would be able to clot blood and provide a layer of antiseptic; something that saved the lives of many of their kind when the ignorant Crusaders knew nothing of it, calling it sorcery and devil work.

She had also given him the perfect opportunity to slip away and consult the Apple of Eden, even though she probably did not know that he had intended to do that.  He nodded, “As you wish.”  There was nothing else he could do for Robin until he had consulted the Apple, much like the last time the man had fallen into his care at Masyaf.  It was then that he had noticed the poor job the King’s physician had treated Robin and consulted the Apple then for any remedy to rid Robin of the beginnings of gangrene in his wounds and heal him completely.

He did not turn back as he headed out of the tent, pulling his hood a little further down his head to shade his eyes from the bright early winter’s sun.  Behind him, he heard the jangle of chainmail as Carter exited and headed to get his own wound checked out.

“S-Sir…” a young voice interrupted him and he turned to see the youngest member of the King’s Private Guard, whose name he could not quite recall, looking up at him, a bit nervously.

Altaїr stood silently, wondering what the young guardsman wanted.

“S-Sir…um, we were wondering, um, how…is…um…” Altaїr realized that the guardsman was afraid of him and while a part of him took a little ironic pleasure in this, he quashed it just as quickly.  An idea occurred to him.

“The King will have silver upon him, yes?”

“Uh…I believe so-“

“Good, I will need all of it.”

“Sir?!”

“If you wish Robin’s life to be saved, you will see that it is done.  Give it to Lady Marian,” he stared hard at the young man who gulped down and quailed a little before nodding.

“I will ask,” Altaїr barely heard his reply as he continued on, stepping over some of the debris and broken stairs before entering the castle, neatly side-stepping the broken hinges and double doors that were lying half on their opposite sides.  Several darkened pockmarks and holes indicated that black powder had been thrown against the door to the point where it had finally broken the door down, but did not completely destroy it.

The sour smell of blood reeked from the halls, but Altaїr was used to it as he made his way deeper into the castle.  He did not remember seeing an alchemy room of sorts during his first time here months ago nor did he remember seeing one on his way in and out after he had killed Leopold.  Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind and touched the Apple of Eden he carried upon him, asking it his intent and felt a vague presence point him in the general direction.

Opening his eyes once more, he headed towards where he felt the Piece direct him to go and found a small room full of liquids in glass beakers, dried things, and other sorts of sundry items that an English alchemist was expected to have.  Half of which was completely useless in Altaїr’s opinion.  Even though he did not have the knowledge of some of the Order’s best chemists, he did know some of what was needed to make poisons and tinctures – that was one thing that Al Mualim had trained them correctly in – to be able to aid themselves in the field should they be working alone and without help.

There were a few bottles of liquids sitting in a corner and he picked up the ones with a clear liquid in it, uncorking the stoppers and looking at the type of vapor it produced.  He knew that nitric acid produced a reddish-brown vapor and that older distilled ones were a bit yellow in color.  But he did not want the yellow colored ones, as they would not be potent enough for what Djaq needed its use for.

Several times, Altaїr had to quickly stopper some of the vials he had uncorked, most of them containing pure acid, before the white fumes could escape and cause damage to the air and to himself.  Finally, he found at least three vials of nitric acid and placed them safely into an unused pouch before grabbing a mortal and pestle along with a metal file from the table and headed out of the room.  However, he did not return outside and instead headed to the Sheriff's room, where Leopold had met his end and where the staff Piece of Eden was kept.

Placing the mortar and pestle and the metal file on the table, he ignored the stench of Leopold's decomposing body, now beginning to show signs of rigor mortis, and drew out the Apple of Eden.  The staff glowed in the pile that it sat in, sensing a brother Piece near it but Altaїr ignored it and instead concentrated his will upon the Apple.  He knew that no one would bother him here for now, which made his task a little easier.

To his dismay and surprise at the same time, it was easier now to ask the Apple its questions, a sign that he knew that it was influencing him as much as he influenced the object.  He received his reply in short order, a flash of several images and the knowledge of what he needed to do, or at least what he need to tell Djaq to do.  However, he resisted the Apple's whispers of a future after what he had done, the temptation of knowing whether or not his efforts would help Robin recover or speed him to his death.  He repeated his firm conviction as the Apple sensed his hesitation and pressed him on the issue and was only after wrenching his mind with some great effort that he was able to free himself from its sinisterly heaven-sent images and back into the cold bleak room where Leopold's grisly face of death met his own.

That snapped him completely back into reality and Altaїr felt a wash of cold sweat break out under his robes.  Suppressing an involuntary shiver, he put the Piece back into its pouch, and went over to where the Piece staff was lying innocently in the pile of other staffs and pikes.  Shaking his head, he took the bundle and shoved it under the Sheriff's bed, confident that no one would be able to find it until days later with the bed's heavy blankets and curtains covering most of area under the bed.

He would pick it up in a few days time and felt the pulse of the Piece of Eden staff react to his mental commands, seemingly finding another master, especially one that sought to unite it into a whole instead of fractions.  It would stay hidden until he returned, he was sure of it.

Altaїr picked up the mortar and pestle, along with the metal file before making his way out of the castle.  He returned to the King's tent and was pleased to see a small bag of silver sitting on a table.  What was even more surprising, was that Much was sitting next to the bag, looking a little lost, his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears, but ultimately very quiet.  It seemed that Much had matured since Altaїr had seen him.  He remembered the first time Robin had been severely injured after being captured by Templars in Damascus; it had taken Kalilah and others a great amount of effort to calm Much down.  The next time he had known of Robin being severely injured was when he had received and acknowledged the message from the King to allow Robin to convalesce in Masyaf before heading home due to his injuries in service to the King.  Much had been fretful then, but tried to strive for calm, only achieving it after he received news that Robin would recover.

When Robin had been tortured by Hadiya, Altaїr had seen Much try to keep his composure and with the distraction of Hadiya's assassins attacking them, had managed to erase most of his fear and fretfulness.  Now, he could see that Much had nearly mastered himself, mastered the fear that Robin's nature precluded the fact that he always threw himself headfirst into danger, regardless of the consequences.  And in a way, it heartened Altaїr that Much was sitting here, calmly next to the bag of silver coins, staring at where Djaq was working on Robin's leg wound, Marian helping her out.

“Altaїr,” Much greeted him quietly, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily, “I thought...”

Altaїr placed the mortar and pestle on the table next to the bag of coins before handing the mousy looking man the metal file.  “Take the silver and rub it down on the file into the mortar.  When you have a small amount, see Djaq with it.”

“Oh, wait, this is...the, uh,” Much brightened a little as he recognized what he was supposed to do, having seen it done in Masyaf, “the...”

“Silver nitrate,” Altaїr finished for him.

Much nodded absently before starting his work and Altaїr headed over to where Djaq was.  He could see that she was gently peeling back the cloths surrounding Robin's leg where a broken arrow pierced it and was cleaning the surrounding skin of dirt and blood.  Deciding not to bother her, he placed the vials he had gotten next to the small table before catching her eye and she nodded before turning back to work.  He was about to leave before taking another look at Robin, reassuring himself that his friend was still amongst the living and out of the corner of his eye saw Marian staring at him, a sad smile on her face before he left the tent.  He knew he would be summoned when Djaq was finished cleaning and patching Robin's other wounds.

It was up to them now, his job was done for now; it was up to them and up to Robin whether or not he wanted to return to the land of the living.

                                    *                      *                      *

Carter drew in a hitched breath and winced as he gingerly stood up from where he had sat for his treatment by Jacques, the King's personal physician.  The man was efficient as ever, flitting from patient to patient in the tents that had been set up as a place of refuge for those who had been wounded in the battle.  Skirmish was what he could have called it, but for the shocked expressions and the wailing of the women and children mingling with the moans of the wounded, it was a battle.  It was also something that he had never expected to see in one of the strongly controlled regions held by the King.  There were always lords and dukes who fancied their neighbors lands and would wage an imagined slight of battle against them, but never in Nottingham, one of the country's largest population centers and the city that held both the northern realms and southern realms together.

But then again, the other population centers did not have to contend with a Prince drunk with power and false promises, a foreign enemy Duke that held a deep seeded grudge against the King, and the tireless revolt led by Robin of Locksley.  All of it came to head and boiled over as one boiled too much water in a pot.  The price was heavy, he saw as he looked around.  He only had to shift his eyes just so and the image of the wounded peasants and a few soldiers were replaced by his own fellow Crusaders.  Shaking his head, he walked slowly out of the tent, eager to get away from the rank smell of blood, mortification, and the last breath of the dying.

Outside a few women and some of the men who were not too injured in the battle that pretty much the whole of the shire had participated in, were helping Jacques by treating their own.  Wise women and herbalists were tending to patients who injuries were not too dire, leaving the ones who needed Jacques' expert care to the Norman physician.  He himself had not realized he had been injured, even when he had been hearing Tomas' last words until the assassin; Altaїr had pointed it out when they had been searching for Robin.

But his injuries were a mere afterthought in light of his friend's grievous ones.  It had been his quiet hope that he would never have to see Robin in dire straits again, but he should have known and expected it.  With the King's return, Robin would once again selflessly devote himself to the King's safety as becoming of the Captain of the King's Private Guard.  He knew the King had sent him to Masyaf and from there back to England to protect him, and perhaps it did for a short time, but it was only natural that Robin's opposition to the Sheriff of Nottingham and to Prince John would come to head.  And his friend was paying the price for it.

Carter squinted against the waning bright winter's sun as he saw a few able bodied men carry what looked like the bodies of the Prince's elite soldiers out of the castle followed by some of the men who were wearing Leopold's colors.  His lips curled slightly in disgust as he knew where those bodies came from.  The room where he, Robin, and the assassin had found the King under the sway of the Piece of Eden held by Prince John.  The three of them had also nearly fallen under its hypnotic sway, almost unbidden as they fought to free the King.  That was a slaughter, no glory in that battle.  His King was standing near the broken stairs, watching the proceedings with an indifferent gaze as Harry and Daniel the two remaining Private Guard members who had survived along with young Ollie, stood nearby, watching those in the courtyard with their eagle eyes.  Ollie was the only one who stood by the King's tent, protecting both the area if the King should think to retire, but Carter also knew that the young impressionable man was hoping for news about Robin.

The King had not said a thing about giving his tent up once again to his favorite Guardsman, but Carter knew the King's mind very well.  Any other man would have demanded that his Guardsman or servant whom was injured be brought to the place of refuge, but Robin was one of the King's favorite, if not the only favorite, and thus treated him like his own son.  His friend would never know the depth of emotion and the deep trust his own King had placed in him and Carter would never tell him – such was his duty as both one of the King's personal spies and confidant.

“I'm fine!  I'm-- ow!” Allan's voice broke through Carter's thoughts as he turned slightly to see Robin's resident thief and con man waving off a healer who had tried to adjust the bandages that slung his arm across his chest, holding it in place.  He limped away and to Carter's slight chagrin, towards him.  Perhaps the man hoped to find refuge with him, and for a second Carter was a little annoyed that a peasant would do such a thing, but quashed that part quickly.   Certainly he was a high nobleman, but he had always treated his family's peasants who lived in the villages of the lands that he owned both in Norman France and here in England with a just hand.

Besides, Robin trusted this man implicitly, even though his status as both a con man and a thief was questionable, and so shook his head as he saw Allan-a-Dale limping to his side.

“You should be resting,” he commented dryly.

“I like women, but not when they're trying to cause me even more pain,” the man groused a bit good humouredly before looking around, his smile fading away, “this is what its like in the Holy Lands, isn't it?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Carter replied before taking a deep breath and turning to Allan, “Robin's been gravely injured.”

“No...” whatever color was left in Allan's face had drained as he shook his head, “I don't mean to be funny, but that's not...”  The outlaw's face pulled into a myriad of emotions, “You're not joking.”

It had only taken a short time for Carter to figure out that underneath the joking exterior was a very saddened young man, someone who had seen more than he had cared to and had created a trickster front to fool everyone from what really lied beneath.  He had also see Allan fiercely protective of Robin and had tried asking the others, but they had not told him why it was so.  Little John had finally told him the brief story of what had happened a few months back regarding a noble woman of the house of Rushcliffe.  He had heard of them, disgraced nobles who had fled after allying themselves with the wrong faction, the King's father.  They had then tried to make amends but ultimately were stripped of most of their lands and titles, leaving them with only Rochdale as their land.

It seemed that Allan had his heart broken more than once by the sole heir of the Count of Rushcliffe family and it was Robin who had saved him from dying in Lady Rushcliffe's suicide attempt months ago.  Allan had felt himself indebted to Robin again and swore that he would never betray the man again.  Carter knew that there had to be more to the story, but even Little John would not say anything about it, only that it was the second time Robin had come to Allan's personal aid at great expense to himself.

Allan ran his free hand through his hair as he muttered a few oaths and turned to him again, “Djaq's working on him, right?”

“Yes.  Her knowledge of medicines from the Holy Lands is greater than ours, even it it may be Saracen sorcery,” years of fighting against the Saracens could not be undone with the knowledge that a Saracen woman was treating Robin.  Even though he knew that Djaq perhaps meant no harm to Robin, he still could not suppress the urge to see anything advance was not Saracen sorcery.  His only saving grace was that the assassin, of all people, would be helping Djaq.  The King was willing to extend a measure of trust to those rats who lived in Masyaf, and he would do the same, though only to a certain extent.  He would never forgive them for what they did to his column when he rode with Robert de Sable over a year and half ago.

“The others...do they...”

“Not yet,” Carter saw Altaїr head down the stairs from the castle, carrying what looked like a mortar and pestle along with something else that he could not identify at this distance before disappearing into the King's tent.  He saw the King's own eyes follow the white-robed assassin.

“I'll...let them know,” Allan looked a bit pained, but Carter nodded absently as he headed towards the King, leaving the outlaw behind.

As he reached the King's side, one of Geoffrey's surviving men ran out from the castle and hurried over towards them.  He had not seen any sign of Geoffrey the head of the guardsman patrol that Robin had so willingly converted to the King's banner, but in a way was glad that some of his guardsmen had survived.  That meant that their loyalties were ensured and they would be able to protect the King should the need arise.

“Sire,” the guardsman bowed to the King, “we found the Duke.  He is...he is dead, milord.”

Carter managed to school his expression into a neutral one, as the others around the King looked shocked, as he suspected that it was Altaїr who had killed him after he had disappeared mid-battle.  However, the consequence of having a foreign noble, captor or not, die on English soil was something that would not be looked favorably upon by the other kingdoms.  But he knew the King's mind was shrewd and would turn this matter to his advantage – perhaps even go as far as to acquire a few new lands from Austria in return from the treatment that he had received in the hands of the Duke.

The King also did not seem surprised, but Carter had years of reading his King's body language and knew that his liege and lord was surprised by the news, even if he did not show it.  He nodded once before gesturing to the guardsman, his English thick with a heavy accent, “Lead me to him.”

The guardsman bowed at once before entering the castle once more.  Carter nodded for Harry and Daniel to stay put while he accompanied the King into the castle.  There was no need for all of them to follow the King and he was pretty sure that there would be no such ambush waiting for them, especially since Leopold was dead.  The assassin would have made sure that all of his personal guards were dead before dealing the final blow to the Duke of Austria.

His wound still pulsed a fiery shot of pain each time he took a step, but years of battle and acquiring battlefield wounds had all but told him to ignore the pain.  Pain was good; it meant that he was still alive and still able to function.  As long as he did not feel dizzied or saw the ground spinning, he was able to function in his capacity as both the Captain of the Fifth Column and as the King's spy.  He followed the King back into the Nottingham castle, wrinkling his nose as the sour smell of blood and dead bodies reeked in the halls.  The servants were definitely going to have a tough time cleaning this up.

A few peasants that had been carrying out bodies stepped to the side as they passed through, bowing their heads respectfully before continuing on with their duties.  The guardsman led them deeper into the castle before ascending to the area where it seemed like the Sheriff's apartments were housed in.  The guardsman stopped by door and opened it before stepping to the side to allow the King and Carter to walk in.

What greeted them was a wide streak of blood coating part of the stone wall near the bed ending at the floor where Leopold's body laid, eyes closed, almost peaceful if not for the angle in which he half sat, half laid in.  Carter looked around the room, noting several pools of blood that led out the door, a sign that the peasants had dragged out other bodies in the room, but dared not touch Leopold's body.  They were probably the bodies of the Duke's own guards that had tried in vain to defend themselves against Altaїr attack.  As his eyes tracked around the room, he noticed a pole of sorts sticking out from under the bed and realized with a start that it was where Altaїr had hid the Piece of Eden staff after he had defeated the Duke.

Moving further into the room as the King knelt down and examined the Duke's body, Carter discreetly placed himself next to the foot of the bed and gently shoved the pole back further under the bed should the King discover where the Piece of Eden was.  He knew his response to the assassin's inquiry regarding what would happen should he had acquired a Piece of Eden was met with scorn and a little incredulity, but after seeing what those things did to others, he would never allow it near the King.  He knew his fellow brothers and sisters in the Templar Order saw the objects as things to bring order and enlightenment to people, but he himself saw it differently.  They could have been used to bring peace to people, that much was certain, and noble at best, but they enslaved the one using it, twisted and corrupted its purpose so that no matter how noble a person was, even if it was one of his fellow Templar, their purpose would be wrought with evil and become misguided.

His fellow Templars could have the Piece of Eden and he himself knew that he could have swooped down and taken it for himself, but that meant opposing Altaїr and Carter was no fool.  He knew that based on skill alone, he would be a match for the Master, or rather Grand Master if the rumors he had heard in Vienna were true, of the Assassins so the result would be a stalemate.  There were also two deciding factors; one was the presence of the King.  As the King's personal spy and confidante, he was certain that his liege and lord did not need anymore power and that to wield a Piece of Eden he so desired would corrupt the image that he had cultivated with both the nobles and the peasantry masses.  While the Piece would make England and Norman France one of the most powerful kingdoms across the known lands, he had no doubt about that, it would also destroy the King's image and legacy.

Carter knew that the King had made many enemies with his charisma and conquest, Leopold was all but proof of one of them, and he did not expect the King's reign to last much longer.  The fact that the King's own brother was plotting against him and managed to get so far was yet another proof.  He knew that some may have called his thoughts and observations disloyal to the King, but he considered himself a realist and which was why one of the reasons he had the King's utmost trust.   The King trusted him to ground him in reality, not to go above the epithet he had been given, Lionheart and claim the madness of godhood like so many corrupt Kings had done before him.

The other deciding factor was while it may have put him in contention with Altaїr, it would also put him in contention with Robin.  He had been too long without any real close friends that he had been mildly surprised that the Captain of the Private Guard and a lower noble had become such a friend.  It was odd in a way, but Carter would never risk that friendship on a mere trinket, no matter how powerful or if he was ordered to bring it back to his Templar masters.  He had already told Robert de Sable once before, when the mad Grand Master of their Order had ordered him to fight against Altaїr at the Battle of Arsuf Plains, his loyalty was to the King, and by extension, to Robin.

“ _Carry him out, he will have a proper Christian burial_ ,” the King spoke up in French as he stood and walked out.  Carter grabbed the Duke's legs as the guardsman hefted the man's shoulders and together they carried Leopold's limp body out.  Outside, they settled the body in one of the tents that Jacques had said was not too crowded before the physician ordered one of the peasant women helping him to clean and prepare the body for burial.

Carter had left then, but told the guardsman to stay and watch over making sure that no harm came to the body.  He would not put it past any of the peasantry to steal the gold and silver that was on the corpse.  No matter how much Robin championed their cause, they were still like magpies to objects of riches.  As he stepped outside of the tent once more he glanced across to the King's tent and to his surprise saw Altaїr throwing some kindling and wood into a growing fire.  The other outlaws were sitting around, some like Allan bandaged a little more heavily than others, but otherwise had muted expressions on their faces.  A part of him was glad that all of Robin Hood's men had survived the battle, though it appeared that Allan was not the only one who was sported grievous injuries.  The young wide-eyed carpenter, Will Scarlett, looked like he should have been resting instead of sitting by the fire.  He had caught brief glances of the young man fighting with dual axes against one of the stronger of the Prince's guards.  Since that particular guard was no where in sight and Will was still alive, it was easy to see who had won.  However, the man sported a heavily wrapped arm that was held against his chest and swathes of bandages around his midriff.  Part of his head was covered in bandages, and some dried blood ran unnoticed down the side of his cheek.

Little John, the hardy woodsman who had apparently been an outlaw long before Robin and the others was one of the few, besides Much, who looked as if he had not had a scratch upon him.  However, he was leaning against his staff heavily even sitting down that Carter supposed he was injured in some way that he refused to show.

Twilight had fallen upon the area as many of the survivors stopped what they were doing and were setting up for the night.  Food was being parceled out and it was only until the smell of roast pork and food being cooked reached his nose that he realized he was immensely hungry.  He grabbed some of the food being handed out and joined the outlaws and Altaїr by their fire, the exhaustion of the day finally hitting him as he sat down and wearily ate.  He suspected the King was in his secondary tent, already eating his own meal glancing over to see both Harry and Daniel standing outside the smaller tent which was situated next to the one that housed Robin.

“How's Rowan?” Allan asked as two more people joined their fire and Carter glanced up at them.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the King peer outside of his own tent and talk to Harry and Daniel before they looked at the King dubiously who repeated himself and they reluctantly detached themselves from their posts.  He saw them grab some of the food being parceled out before coming over the fire to join them, Daniel pulling Ollie away from the tent who squawked in surprise before following them.

Carter scooted over on the log he sat on to allow them to sit by him as they started to eat their dinner.

“Not good,” one of the men replied.  He had an old weathered look about him and though looked shallowly pale, and recently injured, but it seemed like those injuries had not been sustained in the day's battle.  “The name's Terence,” the man noticed Carter staring at him before thumbing to the other one sitting next to him, “that's George.  Used to be the Sheriff's spies in Knighton Hall, but after the Sheriff burned down our village, killed a lot of our families, well, we aren't his men anymore.  Robin's helped us here...and Rowan, good lad, helped keep us safe from Gisborne's retaliation.”

Carter nodded at all of the information, keeping his opinion to himself.  Once a person was a spy for the enemy, there would always be a cloud of suspicion upon that person.  Which was one of the reasons why he had rarely revealed to anyone his status as the King's personal spy.  However, it seemed that Robin had ignored that suspicion and instead had decided to trust the two men.  He suspected that this Rowan fellow was probably the same young man that Robin had been talking to earlier as they had ridden into Nottingham.  It was probably also the same Rowan that had rallied the peasants together to incite a populace revolt.

“What happened?” he asked.

“The lad tried to take on the Sheriff when Robin was injured,” George had a wrinkled face, but perhaps could not be much older than Terence, “stupid boy was always trying for heroism.  Wanted to be like Robin, wanted to be like his idol.  Got himself run through.  That French physician said that he's done all he could, but the boy's too wounded to live.  Mortification's going to set in and he will die in a few short days.”

“He's delirious right now, wondering where Bridget had gone to.  Didn't have the heart to tell him that she's dead, arrow struck her right through her throat,” Terence continued.

“But she was fine when I left...” Ollie's voice cracked a little, “it's my fault-”

“No, that was mine and Tomas' fault,” Carter realized that when he had ducked from the arrows that had been shot at him and Tomas during their defense of the tents area, one of those errant arrows had probably struck Bridget.  Some of them had been meant for him and Tomas, but the archers had been aiming deliberately towards the innocent peasants within the area.

“Sir-”

Carter glared at Ollie who immediately shut his mouth and stared back down at his half-empty plate, absently chewing his food again.  He looked across the fire to Terence, “Where is this Rowan?  I should tell him the news about his Bridget.”

“Second tent down from where the main tent is.  But sir, if you could...um,” Terence wrung his hands slightly, “Rowan wanted to meet the King and I was hoping, that perhaps...you, um...”

Carter smiled faintly, “I will see that his last request is answered.”  It would behoove the King to visit some of the peasantry he supposed and plus since Robin apparently trusted  Rowan enough to actually rally the populace to his name, then it would be a magnanimous request itself.

“Djaq!” Will suddenly called out and all heads turned to the King's main tent where Djaq stepped out, closely followed by Much.  The Saracen woman looked exhausted, dark circles making her already large eyes even larger and her hands were splashed with something that looked a little dark, though it did not look like blood.

Carter watched as the young carpenter stood on unsteady legs, but managed to help Djaq ease into a log before someone shoved a plate of food in front of her.  She stared at it dumbly for a second before helping herself to the food, eating almost in a mechanical fashion.

“Marian's with him right now,” Much had taken a seat next to Altaїr, holding his own plate of food that had mysteriously appeared from somewhere.  To Carter's surprise, there were three other hooded assassins who wore robes of white, though their design was a little different that the master assassin's.  When they had appeared in their little group by the fire was beyond him, but they definitely proved that the Hashashin were masters of blending within a crowd.

“So he's going to live?  That's great-”

“I still have not removed the blade from his chest,” Djaq's voice was rough with exhaustion as she continued to eat without looking at any of them, “his other wounds have been stitched up, but he is not out of danger yet.”

“Oh,” Allan had been quick to announce his joy at hearing that Robin may yet live, but now seemed completely deflated.

“Djaq, you should...you should rest, maybe let the King's physician look at him?” Will asked quietly but the Saracen woman shook her head.

“No,” she rubbed her eyes and smiled wanly at the young carpenter, “I have too much to do.”

“ _Then at least let her have her moment_ ,” Altaїr suddenly spoke up in Arabic.

“ _I am_ ,” Djaq replied back and Carter glance between the two in time to see the last of the King's robes disappear into the main tent where Robin was housed in.  He understood in a flash that there was a good chance Robin would bleed out and die before they could successfully cauterize the wound.  He had understood it the moment they had discussed it in Arabic while Marian was getting the bandages, but he hadn't accepted it.  A part of him still held hope that Robin would prevail and be strong, but the reality of the situation was that Djaq held little hope.

He frowned, a little more than angry at the pessimism, “ _He will survive_.”  Even he was surprised at how rough his own voice sounded.  “ _There is no need to panic everyone with the news_ ,” he gestured with his eyes to the Private Guard members, some of whom he knew understood a little Arabic and had caught parts of their conversation.

Djaq looked a little ashamed and nodded while Altaїr only stared at him with an unreadable gaze that Carter met squarely.  Let the assassin think what he wanted, he would not give up hope just yet.  And yet as he met the assassin's gaze, he also saw that Altaїr was not ready to give up the glimmer of hope and the corner of Carter's lips twitched up in a challenging smile.  The assassin had been testing him, and if he could do such a thing while their mutual friend was lying in the tent beyond them, then perhaps hope was not lost at all, just misplaced.

And it would be found soon enough.

                                    *                      *                      *

Marian stroked the sweat soaked hair out of Robin's face as she watched the light rise and fall of his chest; the light rise and fall of the thin stiletto blade that Djaq had told her they could not remove because it was the only thing that kept him from bleeding out.   She could feel the silent tears dripping down her cheeks, but did not wipe them away.  It was only after Djaq had left with Much following close behind her that she had let her guard down completely and had cried, her gasping sobs half muffled as she sat next to Robin's so still form.

If she knew what awaited him when he had returned to Nottingham, she would not have let him go with Matthew the traitor.  She would have insisted that he stay to find her father, or maybe have run away, far away from Nottingham where the Sheriff and Prince John would bother them no more.

Her dear sweet Robin.  The man she was, no, she would marry.  She had already lost her father, she could not lose him.  If she lost him...Marian squeezed her eyes shut at that thought.  She had pushed him away so many times, had derided and yelled at him, had even run into Gisborne's arms, had broken Robin's heart.  If there was a God in the world, she hoped that her prayers to him to restore her beloved were being heard even though she was not saying them out loud.  She could not speak the words as they hurt her throat.

One of her hands held his own limp one, occasionally squeezing it, hoping that wherever he was, he would feel her presence, willing him back to life, willing him to wake up.  “...Robin,” she whispered as she lifted his hand to her face and kissing his fingers, “why did you have to be so heroic.  Why...”

“ _For the glory of God, for his King...and for you_ ,” the King's deep voice and cultured French startled Marian as she opened her eyes and saw him enter the tent, carrying what looked like a small plate of food, “ _for you, Lady Marian_.”  The King set it on the corner of another small table.

“ _M-Milord, I...I_ -” Marian did not know what to say as she tried to stand up but halted as the King held out a hand.  For the King to bring her food, she could not believe that he would do that for anyone.  He was the King!

“ _Please sit down, Lady Marian.  We only wish to confess our sin_ ,” the King clasped his hands behind him as he stepped forward into the candle light, the flickering flame casting a myriad of shadows across the room.  It made the King look both old and youthful at the same time, like a lion with his flaming red hair and beard and a man.

“ _S-Sin, milord?_ ”

The King nodded sagely, “ _We are getting old, Lady Marian, and we have no heirs.  When we return to my lands, our wife will probably not beget us an heir and we have no need for any bastards that we have fathered_.”  The King had a wistful look about his face that Marian had never seen before as he looked down at Robin, “ _You are betrothed to him?_ ”

“ _I was milord, before he left for the Holy Lands.  That was annulled after a year and my father thought it best for me to have more prospects.  Robin, proposed to me only a few nights ago, again_ ,” she could not help but smile at the mention of the proper proposal in the woods.

“ _A good match_ ,” the King commented and Marian blushed as she continued to hold Robin's hand.

“ _Sire?_ ”

“ _We have no sons, no heirs, Lady Marian_ ,” the King cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind again; “ _we had long considered Captain Locksley as...as one of our own_.”

“ _Milord!_ ” Marian had seen an affection of sorts between the King and Robin and had thought it to be because Robin had devoted himself so dutifully to the King, but to hear this kind of confession.  It brought the fealty Robin had to the King into a whole new light.  She had never known that the King had thought of Robin like a son of his, a mere noble from a shire.

“ _We confess that we had sent him back to England instead of allowing him to continue his duties in the Holy Land because we wanted to protect him_ ,” the King pursed his lips, “ _we have failed in that regard_.”

“ _Milord I do not think that this is a failure_ -”

“ _We did not foresee the dangers of our own brother, of his machinations and of the wickedness that had gripped these lands.  We humbly come before you and offer our apologies for our actions to your betrothed_ ,” the King finished, offering her a small bow.

Marian's thoughts screeched to a halt as she was a little mortified at the King bowing to _her_ of all people and offering an apology at the same time.  “ _Y-You are forgiven, milord_ ,” there was nothing else she could say that would not anger the King or embarrass herself further.

The King nodded curtly before straightening and clearing his throat once more, “ _We shall leave you now, Lady Marian.  Captain Locksley...Robin is a good man, a strong man.  He will fight to be at your side_.”  With that the King abruptly left the tent, leaving Marian a little bewildered and so full of hope at the same time that she felt new tears track down her face.  The King had so much faith in Robin and in her...

She had not realized that she had nearly dozed off until Djaq's gentle hand pressed upon her shoulder, rousing her to see her holding several more candles, a gentle smile on her face.  “It is time,” she said quietly and Marian glanced behind her to see both Altaїr and Carter standing a bit away, their expressions solemn.  There was no sign of Much, but Marian suspected that Robin's former manservant and closest friend was just outside of the tent, perhaps ordered to stay out.

“Do you,” she stood up, blinking the sleep from her eyes, “do you need more silver for the silver nitrate?  I can file some...”  She had been initially curious as to why Much was sitting in the corner of the tent, filing away at silver coins until Djaq had mixed the powdery silver with an acidic liquid and former silver nitrate.  The Saracen woman had told her that a little of it would help the blood clot, though one had to be careful at the amount used on a single person as too much would be poison.

“No, we have enough,” Djaq shook her head, “I must ask you-”

“Let me stay,” she realized that Djaq intended for her to stay outside like Much and Marian refused to go anywhere.  “Please let me stay.”  She looked back at Carter and Altaїr, shaking her head, “Please...”

“It will not be pleasant, Lady Marian,” Carter looked grave, “something a woman of your stature may not be able to handle.”

“I can handle it well enough,” she was proud of the fact that there was no trace of a quaver in her voice.

“All right then, I will need light, a lot of it,” Djaq handed her the candles before directing her to stand by Robin's head while Carter and Altaїr moved to situated themselves.  Carter inserted a small leather roll into Robin's mouth and Marian realized that it was to prevent Robin from biting his own tongue should he react to the stiletto being taken out.   He then stood opposite of them, his hands gripping the already bunched up edges of Robin's chainmail.  Altaїr stood by Djaq's other side, hand on the simple hilt of the stiletto blade.  Marian understood that as soon as Altaїr lifted the blade from Robin's chest, Carter was going to take the rest of the chainmail off of Robin so it wouldn't constrict him while Djaq worked to keep the blood from flowing out.

She watched as the assassin gave a sharp look to everyone before suddenly pulling out the blade.  Marian was forced to step back as Carter became a whirl of activity and quickly stripped Robin of his chainmail and ripped open his shirt to reveal both old and new wounds before out of the corner of her eye she saw the assassin leaving with the blade in hand.

“Where is he-”

“Cauterization,” Djaq muttered tightly, “light!”  Marian dipped the candles lower towards Robin as she looked at the wound he bore, the blood flowing out in little pulsating fountains.

Djaq quickly mopped up the blood, dropping rags to the ground as she applied a little silver nitrate before compressing the wound.  After a few minutes, she dropped the compress and wiped up more blood before compressing it again.  Never had Marian seen a wound bleed like so.  A glance over to her love's face made her start a little as she saw that his eyes were opened, but glazed heavily with pain.

“Robin...?” she whispered.

“...Easy there friend,” Carter placed a hand on Robin's forehead, bringing those glazed eyes squinted towards him, “we are going to cauterize your wound.”

She saw Robin's hands attempt to twitch before Carter reached down and squeezed his left hand, “The Sheriff has been caught, the battle has been won.”

Marian's heart nearly broke as she saw Robin trying to mouth something through the pain before Carter leaned closer to hear what he was saying.  She watched as a faint smile broke across the Templar's face as he lifted his head up and gently turned Robin's head towards her.  “She is all right as you can see.”

Marian bit her lip and groped to find Robin's other hand before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I'm here, Robin...”

She saw his eyes try to recognize her through the hazy pain he had to have been feeling before suddenly the tent flap opened and both Altaїr and Much came barreling through, a glowing blade held in Altaїr's hand.

“Much, grab his legs,” Altaїr ordered without preamble before stopping short just as he noticed that Robin was awake.

“This will hurt, my friend,” he said as he held the blade where Robin could see it and Marian saw Robin's eyes focus on it before he nodded once.  However, Marian could feel Robin's grip tighten in her hands, squeezing it tightly as Altaїr turned the blade back towards where Djaq was still compressing the wound, the new compress already soaked a deep crimson red with blood.

“Wait, what about the angle...” Marian realized that such a thin blade would not leave room for any type of angle in which to reinsert it.  If it was reinserted at the wrong angle, it meant that Robin now had two internal wounds and would surely die.

“He knows what he's doing,” Carter cut her off as Djaq poured a little of the silver nitrate onto the blade where it hissed as it made contact with the red-white hot metal.  Altaїr must have taken the blade outside to the fire to have Much clean it before inserting it into the fire and taking it out only when it was hot enough to cauterize any wound.

“ _Now_ ,” the command, even in Arabic was understandable to Marian as Djaq lifted the compress off from the wound and Altaїr plunged the heated blade back into the wound.

A muffled cry issued from Robin's lips as his teeth bit hard against the leather roll.  The cry cut Marian to the core as his body arched a little in reaction to the blade being plunged back into him.  Both Much and Carter reacted instantly, Carter holding down Robin's arms and Much holding down his legs.  She felt as if her hand was going to be crushed in Robin's before he suddenly fell limply back onto the palate and she saw his eyes roll back into his head as he fell unconscious from the pain.  Altaїr held the blade for a few more seconds, long seconds in her opinion, before taking it back out and the faint odor of burnt blood and metal filled the air.  Marian had to swallow hard to prevent herself from gagging from the smell, what she had seen, and from the phantom pain she felt in her right breast at what Robin had just endured.

“Light!” Djaq's voice snapped her back to the present and she dipped the candles lower as Djaq peered closely at the wound which the edges of his burnt skin curled with smoke, a blackened hole that penetrated his chest.  Blood still oozed at the edges and dripped down his sides as the Saracen woman continued her examination.

“H-How...is...” Marian could not finish as she visibly swallowed down the bile that threatened to make itself known.  She needed to be strong, for Robin's sake, she could not faint or throw up now.

Djaq placed a hand near Robin's neck before leaning her ear down to his chest and closed her eyes, listening carefully.  She straightened herself after a few minutes and looked around at them.  “He will live for now.  His heartbeat is shallow, but that is because of the recent trauma he has endured.  The wound seems to be completely cauterized, but we cannot know for sure until a few days have passed.”  She started to fold a new clean cloth into another compress before Marian looked at her, puzzled.

“Should we not stitch up the wound?”

“In a day or two, yes, but right now, to disturb the newly cauterized blood and flesh would undo what we have just done.  A simple compress and bandage will be sufficient,” Djaq sounded exhausted and Marian realized that the woman was swaying on her feet.  She had her own wounds, old wounds from the battle in Sherwood Forest, but she had also been treating the wounded during the whole battle.

“I'll do it, Djaq,” Marian let go of Robin's hand and placed it on the woman's shoulder, “get some rest.”

Djaq blinked at her a few times before a smile broke out on her face and she nodded, handing her the compress.

“Here,” Much hurried over and grabbed the candles from her other hand, “I'll help you.”

“Thank you,” Marian smiled, blinking the tears that had formed in the corner of her eyes away, “thank you all...” She looked at the others and was faintly amused at the sudden way both Carter and Altaїr looked elsewhere, unable to meet her gaze.  If the situation were not so tense and serious, she would have smiled in amusement.  Robin was blessed to have such good friends she thought as she saw them bow their heads to her before leaving the tent, Djaq following behind them.  A few seconds later, she heard a hoarse cheer from outside and knew that the news had been passed on to those who were worried about Robin's fate.

As she turned back to place the compress on the blackened wound, gently mopping up the remnant blood with another clean wet cloth, she heard Much shift a little before pointing out a long thin scar that was across Robin's right shoulder, “I remember that...it was when Robin fell out of the tree when he and the others were playing lookout back at Locksley village.”

“Really?” Marian also recognized the scar, but for Much's sake, pretended she did not know.  She pointed at another faint scar that she did not recognize, “Can you tell me about this one?”

“Oh that...” Robin's former manservant had a slightly proud look on his face, “that was when we just landed in the Holy Lands...”  As Marian continued with her work, she allowed Much's words and story to flow through her and soothe her frightened nerves.  Here was the story of her beloved and for the first time since she had cried over his fallen body, she allowed herself the hope that he was going to survive.

                                    *                      *                      *

It was not the sounds of the quiet woods that brought Robin to awareness, but rather, the shouts of men and women, of hammering, and harsh scratching of what sounded like wood being cut.  He slowly blinked open his eyes, his vision blurred at the edges until he finally got his bearings and realized that he was in a tent; a rather large tent.  His other senses slowly made themselves known as he could feel the warmth of furs wrapped around his body, the pull of loose fabric of the shirt he was wearing, the familiar stitches of his pants down the side of his legs.  They were followed by the sensation of tightness that was across his chest, his abdomen and his right leg.  Then he felt the prickly shots of pain that emerged as he tried to get up and nearly fell back down with a gasp.

The prickly sensation of pain bloomed into real pain as he suddenly coughed, choking and grimacing before finally collapsing back onto his palate, his energy spent.  His eyes watered from the effort as he laid there, chest heaving, sending renewed tremors of agony up and down with each breath he took.  It was only then that he realized that the right side of his chest hurt, a lot.  In fact it hurt a lot more than his abdomen and his leg combined, though he suspected that if he got up to walk, the pain in his leg would soon outweigh his chest.

As he reached a tentative hand up to brush the bandages there, he remembered what had happened.  He had been stabbed...by the Sheriff.  There was a blade of sorts...and...

The hazy memory of someone reassuring him that the Sheriff had been defeated made Robin close his eyes for a second before opening them again.  He could not trust that memory, he needed to know.  The fact that he was in a tent and obviously treated for his injuries could be a ploy for all he knew.  He did not put it past the Sheriff nor Prince John to make sure that he was hale and somewhat healthy before giving him a public execution.

He gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking measured breaths instead of deep ones that he instinctively knew would cause him to cough and therefore be unable to do anything but ride out the pain in his chest.  Feeling a little more confident, he pushed himself all the way until he was sitting up and closed his eyes against the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Opening his eyes once more, he looked down and saw the extent of the bandages upon him when he lifted his shirt slightly.  He also noticed that he did not look as thin as he thought he would have been, perhaps unconscious for at least several days.  If someone had fed him, he did not remember it, his memories a swirl since he had fallen to the Sheriff's blade.  There was a faint undercurrent of pain now as he moved and he looked over to his side to see that someone had set out his winter clothing for him.  Reaching out and ignoring the twinges his chest was giving him, he carefully dressed himself in the familiar greens of his winter clothing before wrapping a fur-lined vest to keep himself warmer.

Breathing quietly, he allowed himself to rest for a moment, a little stunned that he should be this exhausted from only dressing.  When he felt ready again, he swung his feet to the side of the palate and felt his bare feet touch the cold hard stone ground.  Recoiling a little from the chill, he winced as he pulled at his leg wound and looked at the bandages.  He remembered getting stabbed with an arrow, one of his own arrows, during his battle with the Sheriff.  The white cloths had been wrapped tightly and there seemed to be no signs of blood so that was a good thing.  Whoever had treated him was very good at what they did...perhaps it was Djaq.  He allowed himself that slightly hopeful thought that perhaps they did defeat the Sheriff and Prince John.

He saw that his boots were standing next to where his winter clothes were and reached out and put them on.  As he stepped into his left one, he felt the roll of a small pebble object at the bottom of the foot and stopped.  Lifting the boot up and dumping the content into his hand he stared at the partial Piece of Eden that was in his hand.  He had not used it, not even with the temptation and the knowledge that the Sheriff had used his to try to corrupt everyone.

It was still safe, still here...

Robin set the object aside and put on his boots, careful not to lace up his right one too tightly to jar the wound before shoving the partial Piece of Eden back into his left boot.  Taking a shaky deep breath and coughing lightly, he stood up and promptly grabbed onto the table where his winter clothes had sat as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  He closed his eyes, reeling against the urge to throw up and swallowed the bile back down.  As he breathed heavily through his nose, he opened his eyes once more, the world righting itself in his eyes.

He released his death grip on the edge of the table and took a tentative step forward, the fiery pain in his leg making itself known as he shuffled forward.  Slowly, inch by inch, he managed to reach the tent flap and felt a trickle of sweat pour down the side of his face.  The pain in his injured leg had grown now, joining the other waves of agony that traveled from his abdomen to his chest and back down again.  He ignored it as he tentatively opened the tent flap and shielded his eyes from the bright glare of the sunlight that spilled in.

Allow a few moments for his eyes to adjust, he shuffled outside and was surprised at the image that greeted him.  A smile, unbidden broke out as he saw the King's own banner flying from the parapets and spires around Nottingham castle.  Peasants milled around the walls and courtyard, all of them hammering, building, or cutting wood.  Shouts of women carrying water and foodstuffs echoed in the air as they wandered from place to place.  But most of all, the sound of laughter, so long absent from Nottingham and the castle filled the air.

Robin closed his eyes, relishing the sound, allowing himself to finally relax a little.  They had won...and the King's banner flying across the spires proved that.  He opened them again as he looked around, his eyes taking in the sight of not the battlefield that Nottingham had been turned into, but rather the repairs and the reconstruction of the castle.  He spotted Little John chopping wood at one corner of the courtyard, his big form hulking and dwarfing many of the other peasants who worked along side him.  A familiar shout of laughter from one of the ledges above made Robin look up to see Allan hobbling across the ledge, one of his hands was carrying a small bundle, another one holding a walking stick.  Allan must have been injured during the battle, but it seemed like he was recovering nicely.

A bit further away from Little John was Will, directing several peasants and even soldiers this way and that, a map of sorts in his hands.  Will must have been leading the construction efforts, Robin guessed as he saw the young carpenter pointing several beams of wood and blocks of stone that had been quarried towards a section of the wall near the portcullis that had suffered the heaviest damage.  Amongst those that was carrying the stone and wood work was Carter to his surprise.  Near Carter was the King who was overseeing the whole project, flanked by young Ollie, Harry and Daniel.  Robin did not see Tomas and wondered if his former second in command had been injured in the battle or worst yet had died.

But it was good to see that the King was healthy and watching everything with an approving gaze.  He saw the King's gaze turn towards a different direction and followed it to see both Djaq and Jacques, the names of  the two flitted with some irony across Robin's mind, hurrying back and forth through a series of tents that had been set up to house the sick and wounded.  He hoped Rowan was getting the care he needed; the last time he had seen him was when he ordered Much to take him to Djaq to be treated.

Speaking of Much, Robin looked around and spotted his former manservant handing out food, to a few familiar looking white robed...assassins.  So Altaїr had managed to bring reinforcements during the battle and they had stayed behind to help.  He spotted his friend amongst the small group, working on shoring up an area of the castle walls.  He would have never expected Altaїr to stay and actually help rebuild Nottingham, but he was touched.

His gaze swept across the courtyard and over the portcullis, through the walls and towers, seeing everyone pitch in to rebuild what had been destroyed until he saw her...  He froze as he saw her, brown hair gleaming in the sunny sky, her face rosy with exertion as she helped parcel out food to some of the men working by the main stairs of the castle.  She looked like an angel, he decided, the sparkle of her eyes, the way her hair fell down her shoulders.  Even the wool white dress she was wearing along with a light blue shawl made her look so regal.

She was laughing at something one of the peasants, Terence, he realized, said, and her head turned towards him, her eyes at first unseeing, but then he saw her do a double take and the corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile as she spotted him down below, by the tent.  Her smile became fixated on her face for a few seconds before it widened and Robin saw her drop whatever she was holding before scrambling to find some way off of the platform she was on.

He saw a glimpse of Terence and a couple of other peasants, George included, looking worriedly at her before they tracked her fleeing form.  He wanted to run to her as he felt a smile work its way up his own face, but whatever little energy he had left could only stand by the entrance, waiting for her.  The pain was almost unbearable, but he would bear it for her sake.  She emerged from the base of the tower and suddenly was in his arms.  Robin swept her up, embracing her tightly, not only to anchor himself in the moment as she had jarred all of his wounds by running headlong into him, but because he felt so weak now, so spent of the little energy he had.

“...Marian,” he whispered, breathing in the scent of her hair, “Marian, Marian, Marian...”  He could feel the tears now, forming at the corner of his eyes, but refused to shed them.  He heard his own name being whispered in hiccupping gasps, her tears flowing freer than his.

This was the moment of truth for Robin, and in this moment, he was alive.

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**Author’s Notes:**

            There will be an epilogue chapter – I am not quite done yet with this story.  All questions will be answered in that chapter.


	10. Epilogue - The King Richard Trilogy

Robin Hood: Return to the End

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  All foreign languages will be in italics.  Flashbacks will be completely italicized.

 

**Story:**

_Epilogue – The King Richard Trilogy_

 

It was several more days before Robin had enough strength to walk around the courtyard several times before needing rest.  He was still not fully healed and if Djaq had anything to say about his condition, he would never fully heal.  He remembered that it was only an hour or two after he had reunited with Marian that Djaq had entered the tent, the King's tent of all places, and had checked up on his wounds.  He had been shocked that he was berthed in the King's tent and had tried to move, but Marian and Djaq had stopped him, saying that the King had moved into the castle instead.

_“It is healing well,” Djaq had said as Robin lowered his shirt, leaning back against the hay-stuffed pillow that had been made for him, sitting in bed.  Marian sat next to him, a worried look on her face, but nonetheless had stayed quiet during his examination._

_“So why am I coughing?” he asked as he breathed out quietly._

_“The blade pierced your lung.  We were able to cauterize the wound, but the damage...” Djaq trailed off shaking her head, “your cough will get worst as winter progresses.”_

_“But it will go away during the spring season, right?” Marian asked._

_“It should,” there was something in Djaq's tone that Robin knew she was not quite telling the truth._

_“It's not going to go completely away, isn't it?” he had a feeling of what Djaq was talking about.  “It will linger...”_

_Djaq bit her lip and nodded solemnly and in that moment Robin knew what was his ultimate fate.  He felt his lips twitch up in a saddened smile before reaching out and squeezing the Saracen woman's hands, “Thank you...for your efforts.”_

_“R-Robin?” Marian looked at him worriedly and he released Djaq's hand before turning to face his love.  She deserved to know the truth now; and anything less than that would break her heart._

_“How long?” he asked Djaq who furrowed her brow before answering._

_“Twelve, maybe fifteen if there aren't too many harsh winters.”_

_“Ah,” Robin breathed out quietly and took Marian's hands into his own.  He had seen too many battlefield wounds and knew what had happened to him.  “The cough will linger, Marian, and become worst as the winters progress.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because there has been too much damage to my lungs,” he gestured to the bandages, “Djaq tried her best, but...”_

_“You would only have twelve, fifteen at the most, years left to live,” she finished for him, her voice just barely a whisper.  She was staring down at his wound now, her eyes bright with unshed tears._

_“They will be good years,” he tried to reassure her, “years that I did not deserve, years that I got because I was too foolish and stubborn to realize that what I needed the most was here, in front of me, instead of running on a fool’s errand for glory and for the King.”_

_Marian was nodding by now and Robin reached out and pulled her tightly towards him, embracing her fiercely.  “I'm sorry, my love.  I am so, so very sorry,” he whispered into her hair, his own eyes stinging at the realization that he had such a short time to live._

Robin pulled himself from the memory as he noticed the King walking towards him, the other members of the Private Guard following at a discreet distance.  He bowed his head slightly in greeting, unable to kneel down like he usually did because of his leg injury.  “ _Milord, it is good to see that you are well_ ,” he greeted in French and saw a slight approving look on his King's face.  He knew that his King must have had a hard time in the past week and half since the conclusion of the battle trying to talk to the surviving nobles, all whom swore immediate fealty to him and renounced both Prince John and the Sheriff.

He had seen Carter flit back and forth between helping repair the castle and standing by the King's side, providing translations as need be.  Carter was definitely getting his linguistic skills worked on.

“ _Come walk with us_ ,” the King gave no outward indication that he was pleased to  see Robin up and walking, but the slight way the King had been staring at him told Robin that much.  It warmed him a little to know that his King had been worried about his health.  With that, he turned and started to walk away, waving a discreet hand towards the ground to signal to the others that he wanted to walk alone.

Robin fell respectfully a step behind his King and to his right; his gait matching the King's a half-step.  It was a familiar routine to him as he found himself looking around his surroundings, one ear focused on the sounds around them, the other focused specifically on his King.  It was an old habit, to protect him for anyone who may think to assassinate him from where he stood.  However, he felt a little odd and could not quite place it until he realized he was used to wearing his bow and arrows, ready to take down any archer or swordsman who charged at his King.  Right now, he did not even have a single weapon on him except his fists.

He noticed the slowed pace that the King was going as they walked in silence, passing by several peasants and soldiers working, all who bowed their heads in respect before going back to their work.  More than a few called out Robin's name and he grinned in response, but said nothing.  If the King wanted to patrol and see what was happening within the castle walls and Nottingham himself, he would not say anything as was his position as the Captain of the King's Private Guard.

Once or twice the King stopped to comment on the repairs to which Robin translated easily, eliciting a multitude of gratitude and bows before moving on.  He saw the King stop and talk to Allan and Will, the two of whom had been taking a short break, but had leaped to their feet as soon as they noticed the King approaching them.  Allan had winced at the movement to which Robin felt a slight sympathy pang for him, having an arrow speared through his own leg too.

As they meandered their way through the repairs, Robin noticed that they were headed towards the church and from there, where the freshly dug and buried graves were.  “ _We must pay our respects to the fallen_ ,” the King said quietly as he followed and Robin knew that the King was not only doing it for that, but also for Robin's benefit.

He had heard of Tomas' death after Djaq had left and Marian had gone to fetch him some dinner.  Carter had come in and after asking him about his health told him what had happened.  Robin had also learned that Tomas was not a peasant as he had long thought, but was an exiled, disgraced noble whom the King's father had banished.  He had learned that Tomas had bequeathed his lands to him upon his death and was immensely touched by the gesture.  Carter had also told him that Leopold V was dead, most likely by Altaїr's hands, and that Prince John was under guard in an encampment outside of Nottingham which the King visited every day for a few hours.  The Sheriff, the traitorous Matthew, and Gisborne were languishing in the dungeons, though Gisborne had gotten out of the battle with nothing but a bump on his head.  The King had already declared that the three were to hang, having been found guilty of the crimes of high treason against the King.

Robin had bit his lip on hearing the King's judgment against Gisborne, knowing that the King still did not know that it was Gisborne who had tried to kill him in the Holy Lands.  He had tried to talk to Marian about it, but she had refused to speak a word regarding Gisborne.  Robin certainly knew the man deserved to die for his crimes, but he could not help but feel a bit of pity for his rival.

It was also during Carter's brief visit that he had learned about Bridget's unexpected death and that Rowan was slowly dying from his injuries.  As soon as Robin was well enough to walk around a little he had immediately headed to see the young man, whom he knew had a promising future, but had been so ruthlessly cut down by the Sheriff.

“ _Sir Edward's grave is there_ ,” the King suddenly spoke up, pointing towards a freshly dug grave with a marker that was a little more elaborate than the other simple ones.

“ _Thank you sire_ ,” Robin bowed his head slightly and moved from the King's side to stand before Edward's grave.  He suspected that Marian's father had been buried while he had been unconscious and wished that he had been awake to help Marian through her grief.  But what was done was done.

“I will keep your promise, Sir Edward,” he murmured towards the grave, hoping that his words carried all the way up into Heaven, “Marian will be protected and she will be safe.”

Taking one last look at the grave, he moved back to the King's side and saw that he was standing by Tomas' grave, prominent against all of  the other simple crosses and stones  that lined the area because of the giant Crusader shield that marked the freshly buried dirt.  A sad smile flitted across his face as he stared at the blood red cross.  He heard a few words of prayer whispered by the King in French before he moved on.

Robin did not say anything to Tomas' grave, knowing that the man would not like to have words spent on him and instead, followed the King as he made his way out of the graveyard and headed back towards the castle itself.  It was what Tomas would have wanted as a member of the Private Guard – to follow the King and protect him.  No words, no sentiments, the duty and the job were what were most important.

“ _Captain Carter expressed a wish from the young lad, Rowan, that he wished to meet us_ ,” the King did not enter the castle and instead headed towards the medical tents, “ _we regret that we have been unable to fulfill this request because of our duties.  But now that you are here, Captain, we believe that this would be beneficial_.”

“ _Uh, thank you, Your Majesty_ ,” Robin had almost forgotten that Rowan had wanted to meet the King and was puzzled as to how Carter knew about it before he realized someone probably told him about Rowan's request, perhaps Terence or George.

“ _It is of no consequence_ ,” the King waved away his thanks as he entered the tent and Robin followed after him, his good mood nearly evaporating at what he saw.

Rowan was deathly pale, and only the shallowest rise and fall of his bare chest told him that he was still clinging to life.  He realized that it was not long now, that the once strong, hardy young man would pass from this life and into the next.

“Bridget...?” Rowan's faint voice whispered as he cracked open his eyes.

“It is I, Rowan,” Robin stepped forward and grasped the young man's limp cold hands, “I brought a visitor...”

“Oh...” the young man huffed faintly.  Carter had told him that no one had the heart to tell Rowan that his beloved Bridget had died and Robin was not about to spoil that illusion.  They would meet in the next life, he told himself.

“You are Rowan?” the King rumbled next to Robin in his heavily accented English and he stepped away, allowing the King to hold the young man's hand.

“M-Milord...!” Rowan tried to get up, but was unable to, “I...”

“You...have fought bravely,” the King said slowly, “you have fought...well.”

“...Thank you...Your Grace,” Rowan whispered, his pale sunken eyes bright, “your words are too kind.”  Robin murmured a quiet translation to the King for the latter half of the young man's words.

“You have served...squired for Lady Marian, yes?” the King nodded his head, “this is also well.”

A faint color appeared on Rowan's cheeks before he tried to smile but failed as his energy left him.  Robin saw Rowan try to stay awake, but in the end his eyes closed as he fell back into unconsciousness.  He saw the King look at the young man for a long second before releasing his hand and placing it gently back on the palate and got up.

“ _Young men like him do not deserve the terrible hand of death_ ,” the King murmured in French and left the tent, Robin following behind him.  He would later learn that Rowan died later that night, a quiet, painless death.  He saw the King head back towards the castle and he followed, knowing that the King had not dismissed him yet.

The King paused on the steps up to the castle before turning and staring out at the construction work.  Robin stood a respectful half-step behind him and waited.  “ _We recognize the dangers that you have warned us about and are prepared to take steps to prevent such happenings again_.”  The King paused for a moment before glancing down at him, “ _You are ready to do your duty?_ ”

“ _As my King commands_ ,” Robin felt a little apprehensive at the words, but there were no other words he could say.  He had hoped that the King would release him from his service so that he could go back to Locksley to live out the rest of his days with Marian as his wife.  But the King seemed like he was hinting that he required Robin's service once more, perhaps to journey with him to Normandy France.

“ _Good_ ,” the King nodded once, “ _you will be our eyes and our ears.  You will be the word that speaks from our mouth_.”  The King smiled a little, “ _Your service as Captain of the Private Guard has been concluded.  Your new service as the Sheriff of_ _Nottingham_ _begins now until we say no more or death takes you.  Your titles, lands, and all that was once were have been restored.  Robin Hood died fighting for King Richard and for freedom, Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington, has returned from the Holy Lands with full honors_.”  He drew out a sealed parchment from his robes and handed it to Robin, “ _We have already announced it to the other shires and decreed it in_ _London_.”

Robin broke the seal and read over the decree before rolling it back up and tried to say something, but no words came out.  He could not believe that the King was this generous in not only allowing him to stay in Nottingham, but releasing him from his service in such a way that he would serve in another capacity.  He immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through his injured leg.  “ _Your Majesty..._ ”

“ _Rise, Lord Locksley_ ,” the King commanded and Robin stood up, suppressing the wince as his leg protested his movements.  “ _Do not be so thankful of our gift just yet.  We have your first command_.”

“ _Milord?_ ” he looked up at the King and saw that the smile was replaced with a slight frown.

“ _You will preside over the execution of the traitors Vaysey, Matthew, and Guy of Gisborne tomorrow_ ,” the King said and Robin nodded solemnly.

“ _As you wish_ ,” he bowed his head a little.  It was ironic really, in a twisted sense.  He had returned from the Holy Lands months ago and regained his title and lands only to preside over the execution of four of his villagers.  Now the King said he was an outlaw no more, regaining his title and lands only to preside over yet another execution.  But this was the King's command, and one he could not and would not refuse.

                                    *                      *                      *

Sleep did not come easy for Robin during the night.  He had no qualms about sending Vaysey and Matthew to their deaths, after all, they certainly deserved it, but rather, he was having second thoughts about the very man that had tried to kill him in the Holy Lands, Guy of Gisborne.  He knew that it should have been easy, executing the man that had nearly killed him, had nearly killed the King.  But what bothered him the most was not because Gisborne was unrepentant, but because of Marian.  He knew he should not blame her for his doubts, but the fact that she had refused to even speak a word and if rumors were correct, not even visit Gisborne once in the dungeons, bothered him.  He was aware of Marian's lingering feelings for the man, and had been, was still, jealous of them, so one would think it would be easy to execute his rival.

Yet the fact that he had tried to reach out to Gisborne and had seen the man's reluctance in participating in what had happened before he had lost himself told Robin that Gisborne was a man not to be hated, but pitied.  So would not it be easier to put a man whom he pitied down, like a suffering dog, than to let him live?  There was nothing he could do anyways, he could not let Gisborne live, it was his King's decree that Gisborne should die.  As Robin settled himself to sleep an uneasy sleep in his palate, still within the King's tent, he felt himself plagued by the dreams that had always haunted him, the dreams of the Holy Lands.

Robin woke up a few hours later with Much shaking his shoulder gently.  Much bustled around, helping him as he got dressed and ate a quick breakfast before reaching out to strap his Saracen sword to his side.

“Robin...?” Much asked, a little confused as Robin eased his pack of arrows to his back and picked up his recurved bow, shouldering it across himself.  He felt a twinge of pain as the strap of the arrow pack pressed against his chest wound, but resolutely ignored it.

“I may be the new Sheriff, but I'm still Robin Hood.  The people should know that,” he waved away Much's offer of wearing the fur skins that denoted his nobility status.  “And thank you, Much, for helping me.”

“It was no trouble,” Much blushed a little, “just figured...you know...”

“Come on, old friend,” he slapped him on the back as he stepped out of the tent, the two of them walking as fast as Robin allowed himself to move with his injured leg towards the castle where the King awaited them.  He did not know if Much had worried over him while he had been grievously injured, but judging by the relieved look his best friend wore, perhaps it was a sign of maturity that Much had not panicked.  If it was so, then Much was a much better man than he was.

It was a slight effort on Robin's part and patience on Much's part that they slowly ascended the stairs and finally entered the castle.  Robin absently wiped the sweat that was on his brow away from his exertion, ignoring the light pain in his leg.  Djaq had said it would take time for him to heal and he should not push himself too hard or else he would never heal.  Ollie had directed them to the Great Hall where the King was taking his meal and the two of them entered after being allowed through.  The youngest member of the Private Guard had grinned at the sight of him wearing his usual armaments.

“ _Sheriff Locksley_ ,” the King greeted and it took a moment for Robin to process his new title and name, too used to Robin Hood ever since his return from the Holy Lands.

“ _Your Grace_ ,” Robin bowed a little.  He was a little surprised to see Prince John standing behind the King with a pitcher of what was probably wine in his hands, waiting to serve his brother.  The Prince did not meet his gaze and instead stared at a point above where Robin's head was.  However, this did not stop Robin from grinning a little crookedly at the Prince's humiliating position.  The other two members of the Private Guard, Harry and Daniel were standing by the corners while Carter stood like a sentinel on the King's opposite side.

“ _You may give your report_ ,” the King waved an absent hand at him and Robin nodded once.

“ _Everything has been arranged and the prisoners are being brought out at once_ ,” he had given his orders the night before regarding the hanging and when the prisoners were to be brought out.  He had also sent town criers across the shire with the announcement and time of the executions, per his King's orders.  “ _The populace should be gathering by now_.”

“ _Very well_ ,” the King wiped his mouth before standing up and looking at him.  Robin was a little pleased to see that his appearance had startled the King before a small nod told him that the King approved of his discarding of the nobility furs and instead wore the armaments that were familiar to him.  It was a new Sheriff that oversaw Nottinghamshire, not an old one who wore furs and riches of his title and position.

Together they all headed outside and Robin saw Marian, Little John, Will, Alllan, and Djaq waiting near the foot of the steps leading down to the gallows that had been half destroyed during the battle, but steadily repaired.  Altaїr along with the three members of the Hashashin that had accompanied him were standing by the side near next to Marian, a seemingly mild expression on his face.  The rest of the peasantry had gathered around, some of the murmuring, others quiet with anticipation.  Vaysey, Matthew, and Gisborne were waiting by the gallows, each of them gagged and bound, but no hood placed over their eyes.

Belatedly Robin realized that had forgotten his parchment with the decree before Much coughed lightly and handed him the parchment from the folds of his own clothes.  “Thanks,” he muttered as he saw the King settle himself near him, Prince John standing a few steps above, deigned to watch over the execution of his minions, while Carter, Ollie, Harry, and Daniel stood around the King in a slightly loose perimeter.

Robin took a few steps down and felt all eyes upon him as he unrolled the parchment and held it aloft.  “We are gathered here on the twentieth of November in the year of our lord eleven-ninety-two to witness the execution of these persons for the crime of high treason against His Majesty King Richard of England and the Norman Lands, Count of Anjou, Duke of Normandy, Count of Maine, and Duke of Aquitaine.  The evidence has been presented and we have come to the conclusion that death shall be the punishment.

“Such persons as follows, Matthew of Knighton,” Robin looked up and stared straight into the man's eyes and saw him look away, “Sir Guy of Gisborne.”  Gisborne did not even meet his gaze and instead stared beyond him.  “Vaysey, former Sheriff of Nottingham,” Robin saw Vaysey purse his lips, flexing his wounded but bandaged hand before his lips curled in disgust.

Robin rolled up the parchment once more and nodded to the executioner as he walked the three up to the gallows and started to put the hoods and ropes around their necks.  There were so many other crimes that Robin knew he could have announced and written out, but he felt that the greatest of them all was treason against the King and it was enough that they should be known for that.  He did not need to tarnish their names anymore with their other crimes, though the populace knew of it.  The other shires could only speculate and he was content to let them speculate.

“May the souls of these men find peace in Heaven,” the echo of those haunting words that Vaysey had spoken to him so many months ago was not lost on Robin as he repeated them.  He managed not to flinch as the executioner pulled on the ropes, flinging the stools back and letting three dangle from the hangman's noose.

The crowd's whispers rose into a murmur, but no one cried out like last time.  Yet he could shake the disquiet feeling that somehow, it was wrong.  Yes the Sheriff deserved to be executed, yes Matthew deserved to die, but as he stared at Gisborne's dangling form, the man's head hidden behind the hood, he could not help but feel a little pity, even for the man who was dying in front of him.

Robin flicked a quick glance at Marian and saw that she was staring resolutely at the hanging people.  However, upon closer inspection, he saw what looked like a small streak of a single tear work its way down her face before she hastily wiped it away.  That was what sealed his decision and Robin inwardly shook his head.  For what he was about to do...he hoped and prayed to God that it would work while cursing himself for being foolish.

“Master...what are you...”

Robin ignored Much and the surprise murmurs that started up as he unshouldered his bow and drew one of his arrows, managing not to let the sharp shooting pain of his still healing chest wound bother him as he drew the arrow and sighted down his bow.  He could feel himself shaking with the effort and exertion, knowing that he was in no position to even draw a bow that tight or to even fire it.  His accuracy could be marred by his injury, his chest screaming in pain now as he willed himself to be steady.

Ignoring the outward looks of surprise and gasps of surprise around him Robin concentrated and let go of his arrow, watching it fly true and snap off the rope that hung around Gisborne's neck.  The man toppled to the ground and Robin drew in a deep breath, coughing once, before descending the stairs slowly.  As he drew closer to the gallows, he could hear the faint last gasps of breath from Vaysey and Matthew, and ignored them.  Those two deserved their deaths, and he knew that his actions could have cost him his King's favor, even if he wanted to shoot down Vaysey and Matthew.

He climbed to the gallows and knelt down next to Gisborne's squirming form, loosening the noose and pulling off the hood, exposing a very red face.  Gisborne squinted a little from the bright early sunlight before recognizing who knelt above him and instinctively froze in fear.

“You will kneel,” Robin heard himself say harshly, not because he wanted to, but because of his overexertion, “and swear undying fealty to the King.  You will do this and become my steward.  Or so help me God; I will kill you right now.”  He knew his words were heard in the deathly silence of the courtyard as everyone wondered what he was going to do.

Gisborne did not hesitate to agree with a vigorous nod before Robin hauled him up, his own wounds protesting at his movements and marched the man down the stairs and up towards the King.  “Swear it,” he growled out, forcing Gisborne to kneel before the King.

“I swear upon the names of my forefathers and my own that I will serve you, King Richard, until the breath of life leaves me or dismissal from your service,” Gisborne gasped out, still trying to recover from his own near death experience.

Robin looked up at the King who met his gaze evenly, trying hard not to let the slight black spots that were appearing before his eyes show in his expression.  The Lion of England nodded his approval and held out his hand with his signet ring.  Gisborne immediately took it and kissed it before releasing the King's hand.  The man that he had initially felt disgust, anger, and hate for only to feel pity, sorrow at the manipulation he had gone through was now sworn to him and to the King.  He trusted that Gisborne's wish to live instead of die then and there was greater and the fact that Gisborne would know that it was he, Robin, who had saved him from death by the King's decree, would always be forever loyal to him.  It was humiliating in a way, but also shrewd and calculating in another.

“Disperse the crowd, and see to it that Vaysey and Matthew get proper burials,” he ordered Gisborne as the black spots became a little more frequent before continuing up the stairs and headed back into the castle.  “By your leave, Your Majesty,” he managed to get out as he shut the castle doors behind him.  He needed to get away from the public eye before those black spots became even larger.  The populace did not need to know that he had come very close to passing out in front of them.

Robin staggered to the side, his hand pressed against the pulsating pain in his chest and coughed, wracking his body with even more pain.  His other hand tightened the grip he had on his bow.  He felt himself stumble and fall to the ground before managing to push himself against the wall and into a sitting position.  Breathing heavily through his mouth, he could feel the rivets of sweat dripping down his back and sides of his head and leaned against the cool stonework.  A slightly bitter laugh escaped from his mouth as he closed his eyes and rested for a moment.

He should not have done that, but his good conscience told him that Gisborne could be saved and so he had foolishly listened to it at the expense of his own ailing body.  The distant murmur of voices made Robin open his eyes again to see three pairs of eyes looking worriedly down at him.

“You...you,” Marian looked angry, “why did you do that?!”

“You should not have done that, Robin.  Your body can't handle the draw weight of a bow right now-”

“You gave everyone who knew you a panic out there!” Much cut Djaq off, wringing his hands together.

“I'm fine,” Robin replied automatically before pushing himself off the wall and was unable to keep the wince of pain from appearing on his face, “I just needed to rest.”

“Yes you do,” Djaq piped up before helping him up with Much at his side.  “You need to let your body heal.  Drawing your bow, fighting with swords, you will rip out your stitching and undo the efforts we have tried to use to heal you!”

“I'm sorry,” Robin was contrite, seeing Djaq's angry, yet pinched expression.  He knew how much she had put into healing him where as he could have died from his wounds; he should have died, and he had thrown it all away just to satisfy his good conscience.

She shook her head, “If I ever see you do such a foolish thing again...before you are ready.”

“I won't,” he promised, allowing them to help him to the kitchens and from there discreetly back to his tent where he could sleep for the rest of the day.  It took a little while until Robin was back in his tent and as Djaq and Much left him, leaving Marian to fuss over him, he saw her smile a little.  “Thank you...Robin,” she said before she left and Robin knew that she was thanking him for sparing Gisborne's life.

As Robin fell asleep once more, he knew that he had made the right choice.  Gisborne was a man to be pitied, not to be hated, and perhaps now, he would be able to make the right choices in his life.

                                    *                      *                      *

It was early December when the King announced that he was returning to London for the winter before returning to his lands in France once the winter gales had passed in early spring.  One of the King's last act before he left was to preside over Robin's marriage to Marian to which the King had insisted upon doing – much to Robin’s embarrassment.  And so the two of them were married and the King left a few days later, wishing the newly wedded couple good fortune and the blessing of his Majesty's grace.  Along with him were the three remaining members of the Private Guard to whom Robin had heartfelt goodbyes, and Prince John and whatever was left of his own guardsmen.  Though the King and Robin would correspond in the years that followed, they would never meet again.  The King died in 1199 during a campaign against one of the French nobles’ lands.

Most of Vaysey's former guards had pledged loyalty and fealty to Robin and things were getting back to normal in Nottinghamshire as patrols resumed and the reconstruction of the castle continued.

Robin allowed his gang to stay in the castle as they had no where else to stay and had caught Djaq once chasing Will and Allan out of the bathhouse area.  It was Little John who managed to restrain the two and allowed Djaq to thoroughly dress them down.  Robin also invited Altaїr and his fellow assassins to stay in the castle to which the master assassin agreed, but said that he would be sending his apprentices back to Venice before the winter gales were in full force.  It was the first time since the battle ended that he had a chance to have a private conversation with the master assassin, but not much was said.  The three assassins whom Robin had never learned the names of had left soon after, one carrying an ornate staff that was wrapped up in cloth.  Robin recognized the object as the Piece of Eden that Leopold had wielded and knew that it was safer in the hands of the Hashashin than anywhere else.

Carter had also stayed behind, claiming that he was going to visit some of his lands in England before rejoining the King's court in the spring.  But Robin knew better and knew that the King had left Carter to make sure that his daily health was monitored and reported to the King.  He suspected it was also the same with Altaїr, his friend staying to make sure his health was improving, but did not say a thing; both out of pride and out of the friendship he had with the master assassin.

He knew that the two of his friends stayed not only for his recovering health but also wary for any assassins that Prince John may have sent after arriving back in London and reappointed as steward of the English lands when the King left for France.  But he knew that the Prince would make no such move against him while the King was still alive and most certainly not right after his failed attempt to take his brother's lands.  Assassin would be sent in due time, but there were a few years before that would happen, he knew that much.

It was a week since the three Hashashin left and Robin had finished with the latest audience with the nobles who had presented their grievances.  Knighton was slowly being rebuilt.  Locksley and all of the other villages terrorized by Prince John's soldiers had their debts paid out of the large coffers that Robin had not known existed in the castle.  A part of him still wondered how he could have missed that much gold when he had been in and out of Nottingham castle so much during his days as Robin Hood.  But now the money was being put to good use and the first official market day a couple of weeks ago had been a rousing success.  He had put Gisborne in charge of making sure the populace knew that a new Sheriff was in charge and that he was a fair Sheriff.  The results were a little more than entertaining in Robin's opinion, forcing Gisborne to be civil and the peasants bewildered by the fact that it was Guy of Gisborne, of all people, being _civil_.

He sat contently in the Great Hall, washed of all blood and any signs of the slaughter that had occurred there weeks ago, Carter leaning against the wall near the fireplace.  His presence during the Nobles' Council was to reinforce the fact that Robin was hand-picked by the King to be the Sheriff of Nottingham.  Surprisingly, Altaїr had appeared, standing near the shadows during the meeting, observing things with a keen eye.  Robin wondered if his friend was gathering information to perhaps affect a change within the Hashashin itself when he eventually returned.

With the Council dismissed, it was only the three of them and Altaїr had emerged from the shadows, taking a seat by the table that Robin sat at, the three of them in companionable silence as Robin looked over the latest reports that had been given to him.  An idea occurred to Robin as he felt the corner of his lips quirk up.  His friend was the nominal leader of the Masyaf Hashashin so...

“Hey Altaїr?”

The assassin was silent and Robin knew that he had seen the crooked smile.  He could practically feel the wariness that the man exuded, wondering what was to be asked of him.

“This parchment of-”

“No,” was the flattest and quickest answer that Robin had received before he started to laugh, burying his head into the parchments.  He coughed slightly, rubbing his chest a little before shaking his head and looking over to the assassin whose eyes glittered with a little mirth and consternation behind his hood.

“The wisest answer yet,” Carter muttered and Robin was about to reply before the door opened and Much stuck his head in.

“Robin, err, Sheriff, there's a woman here...”

Robin blinked in puzzlement, “And...?”

“Well, she claims that she knows Altaїr's here and...”

Robin glanced over to his friend who had stood up, his normally stoic expression morphed into confusion.

“Who is this woman?  No one save for the Rafiq of the Venice bureau knows that I am here,” Altaїr growled out before Much sudden was pushed to the side as the woman in question stomped in, her hair neatly tied up in a fashion that Robin recognized from the Hashashin order.  She was pretty in an odd sort of way, and somewhat familiar.  Robin swore he had seen her before, but could not place where or who she was.

“...You,” Carter's jaw dropped as the woman promptly marched up to them, holding a small bundle before dumping said bundle into Altaїr's hands and stepped back.

“You may take care of him for the next three months as I visit my family's lands,” she said imperiously and Robin glanced over to see the most peculiar expression on his friend's face – bewilderment.

Altaїr's jaw worked for a second before the woman cut in again, directing another imperious look at him.  “Is this how you greet me after so many months of separation even when I was carrying your child, husband?”

“Husband?!” Carter echoed and Robin felt his jaw drop open in shock.  This woman, who talked so imperiously towards Altaїr and not lose her tongue or even her life was Altaїr's wife?!

“ _Salaam, Maria_ ,” Altaїr finally spoke and the woman's gaze softened before she grinned impishly, showing everyone that she had only adopted the imperious tone and look to throw him off.  “Who is this?”

“Your son,” the woman smiled as Altaїr looked down at the bundle in his hands, “or did you forget that you left me six months pregnant to hunt down that Piece of Eden in England?”

“You...have a son,” Carter said and Maria turned to face them.

“Ah, Lord Tulane,” she bowed her head slightly; “I trust that you remember me?”

“Yes...I am surprised...”

“Are you now,” Maria's eyes flashed dangerously before she turned to Robin, “and Captain Locksley, or should I say Sheriff now.  Congratulations on your promotion.”

It was then that Robin remembered who she was – Robert de Sable's former steward and a Templar to boot.  The last time he remembered seeing her was when he had been investigating Garnier de Napoluse's death in Acre.  What had happened that she ended up marrying Altaїr of all people and having his child too?  “I see that you are well from your injuries...”

“Err...yes,” Robin had a feeling that she was not talking about the most recent battle, but decided to humor her.

“Well then, I shall leave him in your care Altaїr,” Maria turned and headed towards Much, “Much if you could be so kind as to show me where my husband's rooms are...”  The door shut behind them leaving the three men in the Great Hall alone once more.

A faint gurgle of noise brought Robin's gaze to see Altaїr still clutching his son, a little more than bewildered, but nonetheless seemingly warming to the idea of holding a child, his child, in his arms.  The baby cooed again and Robin had to smile at the softening of the very stoic and serious assassin's demeanor as he gently prodded the swath of blankets eliciting another gurgle of contentment.

Suddenly Altaїr held the baby away from him and shook his head.  “ _The knives are not for you little one_ ,” he said in Arabic, but the baby, apparently not used to the harshness of Altaїr's voice started to wail.  Altaїr brought it back close to him and looked up at the two of them, pleading silently for them to help him.

Robin could only helplessly shake his head, “The last time I tried to calm a baby down, one of my men tried to kill me.”

“Don't look at me,” Carter added and Robin could hear his attempt to keep his laughter at bay.

“You men and babies,” Marian suddenly spoke up from the top entrance to the Great Hall and descended the stairs quickly before scooping the crying baby out of Altaїr's hands.  She started to make shushing noises and bounced it around before it finally stopped crying.  “I will take care of him since none of you can even know how to take care of yourselves!” she looked pointedly at them before ascending the stairs and leaving them alone once more.

Robin could only hope that the day he became a father, he would at least know how to not make a baby cry.

                                    *                      *                      *

The winter months passed and though Robin felt himself mending, Djaq's diagnosis was correct that his cough lingered well into the early spring.  In the months of winter, Carter had been true to his word and had left for a short while to visit his family's lands, escorting Maria to her own family's lands before the two returned a month and half later.  It was during that time that Robin had learned that Maria's family was subservient to Carter's and that the two had grown up with each other.  He had been a little worried that Carter was traveling with a married woman, but Altaїr had not seemed worried so he left the matter at that.

As the snow melted and the rains of early spring started to pour, Robin also noticed that most of his gang seemed a little restless.  They had all been pardoned by the King before he had left and while the winter months did not allow for too much travel, he knew that Will had been going back and forth to Scarborough to visit his father and younger brother.  Djaq occasionally traveled with him, the two of them betrothed in the most unexpected way.

It had been during a dinner with his friends that Will had suddenly asked Djaq to marry him, much to her delight and embarrassment at such a public display of affection.  She had accepted and had asked what she should prepare for a wedding, but Will had surprised her and surprised all of them by saying that he wanted to meet her family in the Holy Lands before getting married with their approval.  Djaq had been shocked speechless at the gesture and Will had said that they would travel with Altaїr and Maria when they decided to return to Masyaf.

But it was Little John who was the first of his gang to leave them, once the snow melted in the major roads through Sherwood.  Robin had seen the big woodsman looking for a sturdy horse and buying foodstuffs for a journey in the past few days.  So when the knock occurred as he was reading the latest reports and Little John had entered the Great Hall, Robin was not surprised to see the big man looking a little more than apprehensive.

“You don't need my permission to leave, Little John,” Robin grinned as he pushed the pile of parchments aside.  Carter and Altaїr were not in the Great Hall today during the Council meeting, the former of the two having gone with Gisborne to observe the villages in the shire before composing his latest report to the King.  Altaїr was more than likely with Maria and his child.

“I know,” the big woodman looked a little uncomfortable, but drew himself up, “but you deserve the courtesy.  I've been...a little cooped up lately.”  He gestured vaguely to the Great Hall, “Too big for me.  I think I preferred Locksley village anyways.”

“You're going to find Alice and Little Little John?” Robin asked, standing up and rounding the large table to face the woodsman.

“I...received word that Luke the Cooper died sometime during the winter.  I was going to call on Alice to return here, but perhaps it would be best that we start anew in a different area,” Little John shrugged, “no offense.”

“None taken,” Robin knew that the place held too many memories, good and bad for John, especially since he had been an outlaw a lot longer than he had been as Robin Hood.  He also knew that the castle would be the biggest reminder of the fact that it was here that Forrest died.  “Well then,” he reached out and clasped the man's large hands and shook it firmly, “best of luck to you, John.  You are always welcomed back here, you, Alice, and your son.  Locksley village is always willing to have you as one of their own.”

The large man nodded solemnly, “I was wrong, you know, about you.  You gave me something to live for and I cannot thank you enough.  Thank you and congratulations.  I hope the child born to you and Marian will be in full health and life.”

Robin had to smile at that.  It was only a month ago that he had learned that Marian was pregnant, perhaps for over a little two months now, which meant that by this coming fall in the year of 1193, he was going to be a father.  He released Little John's hand and the big man walked out of the Great Hall and out of Robin's life forever.  He would hear rumors of a giant of a man who was as gentle as a lamb over the next few years, but he never saw Little John again.

                                    *                      *                      *

The next to leave was unsurprisingly Allan-a-Dale.  It was a couple of days after Little John had left that a cart being two passengers, a friar named Tuck and a woman who declined to name herself, but said that they were from the abbey at Rufford arrived in Nottingham.  The two had been admitted and while Tuck was talking to Robin about the good fortunes of the churches of the shire the woman waited.  She had only asked to see Allan-a-Dale and the man arrived with Gisborne escorting him, claiming that Allan had been in the taverns swindling people.  Robin ignored that part, knowing that Allan was doing what he knew best to survive, even though he was not an outlaw anymore.

Marian had arrived during that time and stood by Robin's side, a mysterious smile on her face that spoke volumes as if she knew a secret he did not.  After dismissing Gisborne, Friar Tuck had quieted and stepped to the side, also grinning like Marian.

“You wanted to see me?” Allan asked before Robin shook his head and pointed to the woman who still had the hood of her cloak pulled over her head the whole time.

“Hello Allan,” the mysterious woman greeted and Robin was overcome with a sense of deja vu as he recognized the voice.  It was inflected English that was present in most of the higher nobility in the lands, Robin himself occasionally prone to fall into the same accent when he was presiding over the Nobles' Council.

He shot a glance at Marian as the woman lowered her hood, and his wife's smile only grew wider.  Robin looked back to see that it was indeed Anna of Rochdale standing before them.  However, a part of her face was heavily scarred, from the fire no doubt that she had tried to commit suicide in during the Summer Solstice Tournament months ago.  But she still looked the same, still held the same air that she carried herself in.

“A-Anna...” Allan staggered a little, blindly grabbing onto the edge of the table as he steadied himself, “my God, but...”  The con man and thief looked towards Marian who stepped forward.

“I saved her from the fire when all of you were fleeing from Nottingham,” Marian started quietly as Anna nodded her agreement, “and would have told you if not for Anna's request that she be allowed to recuperate and think over her actions.  She asked that she'd be sent to a nunnery to be forgiven for her actions.  We have been corresponding with each other for the past few months and it was only recently after I had told her of what happened here with the King, she had decided it was time for her to make her presence known.”

“But...”

“It was a hard decision for me,” Anna interrupted Allan gently and Robin could see that while she still held herself up like any noble, there was a sense of humbleness that was not there the first time he had met her.  Perhaps she did change.  “I had thought you to move on, to live your life and I did not want to interrupt that new life by coming back.  But Lady Marian convinced me and had even petitioned the King for a pardon of my family and restoration of my titles in Rochdale.”

“When did you-” Robin did not remember sealing any documents to be sent to the King that had mention of the petition.

“I sent it by Carter's weekly reports.  He was kind enough to let me do so without your knowledge,” Marian whispered back and Robin had to shake his head in minor exasperation.  His wife had thought him to still harbor a grudge against Anna for her role in the whole fiasco.  In a way he had for a while, but after seeing her like this, the grudge had disappeared just as quickly.  “It was also a surprise.”

“I can see that,” Robin grinned, “a very nice surprise, but...”

“I know, it's all up to Allan,” Marian whispered back before the two of them looked to see Allan still standing agog and gaping at Anna.

“Friar Tuck will be seeing me to Rochdale when I leave tomorrow.  I was hoping, wondering that perhaps you would join me?  The King's pardon has also forgiven you and absolved you of all crimes that occurred there.  For you...and for Tom too, posthumously,” Anna had a hopeful, but guarded look on her face.

“I...uh,” Robin could see that the thief looked terribly conflicted and did not envy him, “I...uh...I need to think.”  With that he suddenly bolted from the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Anna's face fell a little before she smiled sadly at Marian, “I tried...I knew he would be like this.  I'll...I'll leave now.”

“No wait, please,” Marian stepped forward, clutching her hand, “stay, we would love to have dinner with you and Friar Tuck.”

“A-All right,” the curly-haired woman reluctantly agreed.

It was a few hours later, after dinner had been served and all but everyone had gone to bed while Robin walked along the halls, sleep elusive this night.  The pains of his wounds had been replaced by occasional aches that heralded a storm or passing rain shower.  He had taken to walking on more than one occasion to soothe those aches and this was one of those nights.  It was probably going to rain soon, he supposed, yet another early March rain that was not quite warm, but still too cold.

He was walking along the hallway that gave a view to the courtyard and paused as the moonlight cast a shadow upon the courtyard, illuminating someone sitting on what was once the gallows now a platform for sellers to hawk their wares.  Squinting, he noticed that the figure was Allan and headed towards him, pulling his fur-lined vest closer to him to keep himself warm in the chill of the night.

“Allan?” he called out in a quiet greeting.

“Oh, I was hoping it would be you,” the resident thief looked up, swinging his legs a bit and hopped down.  “I...”

Robin smiled a little, “You're leaving with Anna, aren't you?”

Allan grinned, still sheepish, “Don't mean to be funny, but yeah.”

“I'm happy for you,” Robin clapped the man on the shoulder, “you deserve this.”

“Thanks,” the other man scratched the back of his head and looked a little away, “Listen mate, if you ever need anything, you know, someone to pickpocket, steal-”

“Lie, say that my wife just had a baby-”

“-you're going to have a baby.  I can't use that excuse anymore!”

“True,” Robin laughed, “I'm sure you're clever enough to think of another one, but yes, if I ever need you, I will send you a message.”

“I mean, I'll stop by from time to time, you know, rough up the crowd a little, give Gisborne a few more white hairs – I can't believe he's actually civil – make sure your baby becomes the best thief in all of the shire...”

“Marian will probably murder you in your sleep as the Nightwatchman,” Robin interjected with a crooked smile.

“Good point,” Allan trailed off as the two stared at each other in amiable silence.  It lasted for a few seconds before Allan held out his hand and Robin took it, shaking it with a smile on his face.

“Well then...”

“Well then...” Robin echoed before pulling the other man into a fierce back slapping embrace and releasing him, “I'd better not catch you killing any more of the King's bucks.”

“Oh I've learned my lesson,” Allan grinned before walking away, “it was good while it lasted Robin!”

Robin raised his hand in a farewell as Allan left the castle, headed towards the inn that Anna and Friar Tuck had booked for the night, knowing that they were leaving in the early morning hours before the sun was to come up.  He wished the best for Allan-a-Dale, a man redeemed.

And so that was how Allan left Nottingham, returning on occasion to visit Robin and Marian but living happily in Rochdale, finally free from the demons that had plagued him for so long.

                                    *                      *                      *

Two weeks later Carter announced that he was headed to London to join the King's retinue as they traveled back to France, having been summoned.  It was something that Robin had been expecting since the winter thaw had begun and the spring rains had come.  He had thought his friend to leave on his own, but was surprised to see that it had taken the King's personal summons to return Carter to his side.  The announcement was also unexpected, coming just as Robin had finished inspecting the completed repairs to Nottingham castle.  Carter had met him as he ascended the steps back into the castle, dressed in full armor and weaponry, holding a parchment with the King's seal broken and had unceremoniously handed it to him.

“I leave at this moment,” his blond-haired friend shrugged with a feigned indifference, but Robin could see through the bald-faced lie.  It seemed that Carter had delayed his departure until the last possible minute and had not told him until just as he was about to leave.

“I'll bring word to the King that repairs have been completed at the castle,” his friend was all businesslike and Robin rolled his eyes and shook his head at the posturing, but humored him.

“Then I expect that your report would be fully detailed as to the happenings of the shire and the recovery of one of England's most profitable trade routes,” he managed to fight off the grin for a moment before the two of them collapsed into fits of laughter, startling some of the guards standing outside of the castle.

As Robin managed to get his laughter under control, occasioned by a few coughs that sent tweaks of pain through his right chest, he shook his head and held out his hand to which Carter shook firmly, glove and all.  Nothing else was said before the jangle of a horse in full mail bearing the mark of the Knight Templars and Crusaders made the two of them turn to see Much bringing the steed around.

“Ah, thank you Much, you were definitely better than Jordan,” Carter said as he mounted the steed and stared down at him.  “I hope that you are still alive the next time I pay a visit.”

“I hope that I'm not,” Much groused before stepping away.  Robin shook his head a little, he would never understand why Much disliked Carter nor would he understand why Carter kept needling Much.

“Lady Marian,” Carter nodded his head over Robin's shoulder and Robin turned to see Marian descending the stairs, a surprised look on her face as she had too not known about Carter's abrupt departure.

“Assassin,” he continued and Robin looked to see Altaїr standing in the shadows with Maria and his child.

“Templar,” was all Altaїr said before Carter turned his gaze back to Robin.

“May good fortune smile upon you, Robin Locksley,” his friend said quietly.

“And to you, Carter Tulane,” Robin replied before he saw Carter wheel his horse around and galloped out of the castle courtyard and out of Nottingham.

In the years before the King's untimely demise, the Templar would occasionally visit while he was in England, most likely spying for the King, but once the King died, Robin did not see him anymore and had heard rumors that Carter had fallen out of favor with former Prince, now King John's regime and had retired to his lands in Tulane.  His lands in England had been seized in absentia for one of John's lackeys.  But that was the fate of any man who was a confidante and spy of the previous ruler.

                                    *                      *                      *

Spring was now in full bloom and it was late April when Robin was approached by Altaїr as he was practicing with his bow and arrow.  Djaq had only recently allowed him to draw the full weight of his bow and arrow and had allowed him to spar and get himself back into fighting trim.  His cough was all but gone, but Robin knew that it was to return as the weather turned cold again.  But for now, he relished the ease of which his breathing had been the weight and solid thunk of his arrow finding its uncannily accurate mark.

It had taken him a long while to recover his full strength, and Djaq had said it was due to not only his injuries sustained in the battle, but because of his imprisonment, torture, and lack of food.  His body was trying to recover, but it had no energy to do so and so slowly, little by little, healed itself throughout the winter.

“ _Catch_ ,” was the command in Arabic and Robin turn and spun, dropping his bow as he grabbed his own curved Saracen sword out of the thrown at him.  He caught his blade and flourished it once before suppressing a smile at the sight of his friend holding his own slightly longer and little curved blade.

“I take it you will be leaving come tomorrow?” he asked as he stepped into his familiar stance.  He was not too surprised that Altaїr wanted to spar in using the whole of the courtyard.  He saw some concern on the guards’ faces, but waved an absent hand at them to relax them.  They had seen Altaїr in and out of the place enough times to know that he meant no harm, but he still appreciated the guards' dedication.

“Will Scarlett and Djaq will be leaving with us,” Altaїr said as Robin discarded his arrow pack, kicking it next to his dropped bow.  He felt confident enough of his abilities even though this was the first time since that fateful battle that he had wielded his familiar blade.  They circled around each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“I too would be anxious to leave after leaving Malik in charge of what, a little over a year?” Robin taunted with a grin on his face to show that he meant no malice in his words, but Altaїr reacted anyways with a challenging glint in his eye and launched the first attack.

It was a wide swipe that Robin easily dodged, but had to parry with his blade as the swipe instantly became an upward cut.  Their blades clanged loudly in the courtyard, echoing off the rebuilt stone walls.  He pushed against the stalemate, before breaking it and shuffled a half step forward, lunging with his own.  Altaїr stepped to the side and stabbed at his head to which Robin narrowly avoided and rolled to the ground, coming up into a crouch.

Launching himself at the master assassin he attacked in a flurry, feeling his muscles sing from the exertion and exercise he was putting them through.  The assassin blocked and dodged most of his attacks before leaping up to the wooden platform and swiped downwards at him.  Robin ducked under the blade before reaching out and grabbed one of the shin guards he was wearing and pulled, sending the assassin unceremoniously onto the floor of the platform.

Once he would have stepped back to allow him to recover, but Robin knew that this sparring match was a little different and instead cut downwards towards the fallen body.  The assassin rolled out of the way before righting himself quickly and leapt off of the platform, launching another flurry of attacks.  Robin blocked what he could and backed away from those that he couldn't before the Altaїr suddenly got under his guard and smashed an elbow across his face.

Robin reeled against the blow, feeling the stinging pain across his cheek, but it drew no blood and he shook his head to clear the slight stars he was seeing.  That was most certainly revenge for what he had done to Altaїr at the platform.  He grinned, feeling his blood boil with the understanding that this was definitely a competition to see who would surrender first and saw the same expression on his friend's face, though it was a little more feral than he had expected.  Altaїr would not make the same mistake twice.

Side stepping a downward strike, he parried the blade aside before his friend lashed out in a wide arc with both of his hands.  However, Robin was instantly wary of the move, recognizing it from long ago, and reacted on instinct.  He drew himself _closer_ to the assassin instead of backing away like last time and switched his grip to a single handed one.  He shot his left arm out and suddenly trapped the assassin's own free left hand, the one housing the hidden blade, under his and twisted _just so_ , his right hand holding his blade flicking the loosened grip Altaїr had on his own sword, disarming him.  He finished his move by placing the curve of his Saracen blade in a reversed grip next to the neck of the assassin, freezing him in place.

Robin glanced back saw the surprise in Altaїr's dark eyes and knew that his friend had not given him the sparring session; he had won it on his own merit before stepping back, steadying his own heavy breathing and sheathed his sword.  He watched as the assassin picked up his own discarded sword and sheathed it before facing him, a wiry smile on the normally stoic man's face.

“I-”

“There is no need to explain yourself,” Altaїr held up a hand to stop him from saying anything, “there are times when I must relearn humility and you have delivered it soundly.  This match is yours.”  The master assassin bowed to him and Robin returned it before finally allowing the grin to appear on his face.

A smattering of applause made him look up to see Marian and Maria, holding Altaїr's child, staring down at them along with Much who was nodding.  Will and Djaq were nearby, the former of the two wide-eyed and impressed with what he had seen.  Even some of the guardsmen looked impressed with the sparring the two of them had done and Robin suddenly felt self-conscious.  He had loved the attention as Robin Hood and still loved the adoration the populace heaped upon him whenever he made his presence known during market days and riding through the villages on during inspection, but this...this was a little more personal.

Robin coughed a little, “Dinner in two hours.”  He avoided the gazes of everyone before picking up his discarded bow and arrows before heading into the castle in a completely different direction.  The first time he had defeated Altaїr and he somehow felt thoroughly embarrassed.

Dinner was a quiet, normal affair as Marian had asked both Djaq and Will of their plans in the Holy Lands, while also asking Maria as to what route they would take back to Masyaf.  Much interjected with a few stops along the way, having taken the same route when he and Robin had been in the King's service.  It had left Robin and Altaїr eating in silence, but he was glad because it gave him a chance to reflect upon the fact that the last of the Robin Hood band of merry men was leaving and it would soon just be him, Much, and Marian left in Nottingham.

As night fell, Robin laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, listening to the sounds of the evening creatures, the soft breathing of Marian, now visibly with child, as she slept next to him.  He had been fretting his decision since finding out that the master assassin was to return to Masyaf and finally sat up from his bed, easing himself to the side and stared down at his boots.

Picking the left one up, he shook it a little, hearing a faint rattle at the bottom of the heel and dumped out its contents.  The small pebble-sized partial Piece of Eden he had carried for so long upon him lay inert in his palm.  There was no whisper now, nor had there been the whisper of power since his battle with Vaysey.  Rolling it across his palms, he stared at it for a long time.  The assassin had trusted him with this, but Robin knew that with his shortened time here on Earth, he may never get another chance to return the object to Altaїr.

He would certainly never bequeath it to his unborn child or to Marian, unwilling to put them in harm's way, even if the seemingly innocuous pebble-sized thing looked harmless.  No, he remembered with stark clarity each time he had used this thing, each time it had whispered corrupted words to him, forcing him to confront and expose the darker side of himself.  Altaїr had given to him in trust, saying that he was a stronger man to resist its temptations, but Robin knew that he was not a stronger man...he had the same needs and wants as any other man, he just chose not to give into it.  The master assassin had said that it was part of a staff and Robin knew that it was the staff that Leopold had wielded, now under the protection of the assassins in Venice.  What the staff would end up as, he did not know, but perhaps it was time to reunite the final missing piece.

Robin breathed out a quiet sigh and clasped the partial Piece of Eden in his hand.  It was time...

The next morning, Robin watched as Altaїr settled Maria upon her horse as she clutched their son close to her.  Will and Djaq had already mounted and were waiting.  Behind Robin stood Marian and Much and somewhere within the castle, most definitely watching was Gisborne.  Robin did not mind that the man was watching this; in fact, he had hoped Gisborne would be watching, because of what he as going to do.

He walked over to Will and Djaq, smiling up at them as Will held out his hand, leaning a little down from his saddle.  Robin took the hand and shook it firmly before patting the man on his forearm.  “Have a safe journey and hopefully you and Djaq will return someday with new tales from the Holy Lands.”

“I will Robin, I will,” Will nodded solemnly before Robin moved over to Djaq who handed him a small bottle.

“This is to help with the winter months.  It will ease your coughing.  I gave a list to Marian for herbs that can make this for the years to come,” Djaq said as Robin nodded and took the bottle, pocketing it.

“Thank you, Saffiya, for your efforts.  I hope that when you do return to your home, you will remember England not for its slavery, but for its kindness and generosity,” he deliberately addressed Djaq by her real name and smiled a little to see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“If not for you, then I probably would have found myself dead in a mine or slaving away in another.  As long as there are those who remember the name Robin Hood, then I will remember England fondly,” she said.

There was only a gracious nod to Maria for his goodbye, a part of him still unable to reconcile the fact that she was a former Templar, former steward of Robert de Sable, and married to Altaїr of all people, the Grand Master of the Hashashin.  As he turned to face the master assassin he could only let a rueful smile appear on his face as he stretched his hand out.

Altaїr met his hand with his own and Robin saw the slight flicker of surprise appear in his eyes as he felt the pebble-sized Piece of Eden in Robin's hand, ready to give it back to him.

“I have guarded it well, but it is time for this Piece of Eden to be reunited with its whole,” Robin said before releasing the master assassin's hand after a firm shake.

“Then it shall be done,” Altaїr replied, “ _Salaam Robin of Locksley_.”

“ _Salaam Altaїr ibn la-Ahad_.”

With that, the master assassin mounted his horse and the four rode away from Nottingham, headed east towards the port towns.  Robin would see Will and Djaq on occasion, the two having married in the Holy Lands and returned with new stories and adventures.  But Robin would never see his white-robed friend again, nor would he ever set foot in the Holy Lands, the two paths that had converged into an odd friendship now split up once more.

                                    *                      *                      *

Another month passed and Robin realized that of all of his gang, Much was the only one who had not left yet, and to his recent memory, Much had not even gone back to Bonchurch.  So with much urging and reassurances, Robin officially declared Much his steward of Locksley lands and the lord of Bonchurch, forcing Much to leave Nottingham, though the two friends would see each other every week due to Much being a noble now and had to come to the Nobles' Council.

It was only during the Summer Solstice Festival that Robin had found out Much had been searching for Eve, the woman he had fallen in love with when she had been one of Vaysey's spies before turning against her former master.  By the time the Autumnal Festival rolled around the two had married and Eve was now Lady of Bonchurch.  A month after that, Marian had given birth to a healthy boy who was named Robert Edward after both Robin and Marian's fathers.  It was also one of the few times anyone had seen Robin completely flustered with the impending birth and hopeful survival of Marian from childbirth.

A year later, Robin gave the lands he had inherited from Tomas, his former second-in-command of the Private Guard, to Gisborne and appointed him Lord of the new Gisborne lands to which the man had been very surprised, but had also been immensely grateful.  He released Gisborne from his service to tend to his new lands, but kept him at will if he needed to call upon him.

As the years passed and the winters came and gone, the wound that Djaq said would never fully heal was realized.  It was the winter of the fourteenth year since that fateful day Robin fought and defeated the Vaysey, the former Sheriff of Nottingham that he passed away in his sleep.  It was also only then that King John had made any outward movement against Nottinghamshire and finally appointed his own Sheriff, proving that he had been still scared of his older brother's shadow and the powerful influence Robin had controlling one of England's greatest central trade hubs.

But by the time the new Sheriff arrived to take control, Marian and her son, young Robert of Locksley had already left, Marian having wanted to journey to the Holy Lands to discover the beginnings of the journey her beloved had embarked upon.  So they traveled to the Holy Lands, enlisting the help of Carter of Tulane before finally, after three and half months, arrived at Masyaf where they were welcomed by Altaїr and the others of the Hashashin.

“And then...?” a youthful voice spoke up, startling the old man from his narration.  He wore the threadbare colorful poncho that had seen better days.

“And then...?”

“What happened to Robert of Locksley, son of Robin Hood?”

“Ah,” the old man laughed, a wheezing sound as he rocked his chair by the fireplace of Bonchurch, “well, that is a story for another time, young one.”

“But Master Much, you said you would tell us the whole story!  I thought the legend of Robin Hood wasn't over!” another child whined.

“Now, now,” one of the mothers of the village chided gently before standing up, “children, I think that is enough now.  Lord Much needs his rest and you can all come back tomorrow to listen to more stories, is that right?”

The old man nodded, “Yes, yes.  I need to still tell you the story of when Robin and his merry band of men met this witch in Sherwood.”

That elicited a series of gasps from the children before they were shuffled out of the door, giggling.  The door closed and the old man finally relaxed into his chair, staring into the flickering fireplace.  He pulled his poncho closer to him, even though he knew that it would not warm him.  Looking up at the mantle, his eyes settled upon the familiar curved Saracen sword, still sharp as ever, but never used since he had been given it at the funeral of Robin of Locksley.

“I've kept your memory alive, Master...” he whispered.

Of all of the outlaws, Much, Robin's former manservant, stayed behind, ever faithful, ever loyal – after all, who else would be able to tell the children and their children the legend of Robin Hood?

 

~END~

 

**Historical Notes:**

            In reality, after signing a peace treaty with Salah al-Din in September of 1192, King Richard _was_ captured by Leopold V, Duke of Austria in Vienna after trying to sneak through to Saxony where it was ruled by his brother-in-law.  However, Leopold was forced to give up his prized prisoner to Emperor Henry VI who eventually ransomed him for a lot of gold.  That gold was collected by both Prince John and by the brothers’ mother Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard was released in March 1194.  Richard did arrive in England, but only London and brought his wayward brother to heel.

            Soon after, his wealth depleted by years in the Crusades, he launched campaigns against the nobles of Normandy, determined to reclaim his lands after they had been sold by his mother to provide money for his ransom.  In 1199, he died after being shot by an errant arrow while on one of his campaigns.

            Before he had died, Richard had his adopted son, Arthur declared as an heir over his brother John.  But with his death, Prince John seized the English lands and declared himself King while Arthur was left with only the dukedom of Brittany.  King John and his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine divided the rest of the lands up since Arthur was in league with Phillip, King of France (and both Richard and Phillip had launched the Third Crusade together, but had a falling out before Phillip left).

 

**Assassin’s Creed Notes:**

            The staff Piece of Eden depicted in this story will eventually become the Papal staff and powerful Piece of Eden that fans of _Assassin’s Creed II_ know that Rodrigo Borgia, the head of the Templars, wields against that game’s protagonist, Ezio Auditore da Firenze (who is a descendant of Altaїr).  I depicted it to be stored in Venice, then lost through the years, especially during the sacking of Constantinople in the Fourth Crusade (where Venice became extremely rich), and end up in the Templar hands instead of Assassin’s safe keeping.

 

**Author’s Q &A:**

 

**Q:** _Why did you kill so many characters?_

**A:** Nottingham and Robin Hood were so far removed from the horrors of the Third Crusade that when war literally came to their front door, people were going to die, no matter what.  I had planned for only certain characters (mainly the villains) to die in the initial planning, but as I actually wrote out this story, I realized that it was the populace of Nottingham, not Robin or any of the battle-hardened people, that would bear the brunt of the slaughter.  Simple answer: it is war.  War is ugly, any other story that dresses it up so prettily is lying.  But in respects to the Robin Hood legend, I did not kill any of the gang, since they have legend immunity.  I maimed them a little, but did not outright kill them.

 

**Q:** _But you did kill Robin…or at least shortened his life._

**A:** Yes, yes I did.  As I was writing this whole series, I had this particular ending in mind since I started work on _Well Met Steel_.  And it was a slight tribute to one of my favorite TV series of all time, _Babylon_ _5_ , but that’s beside the point.  I had two choices, kill Robin outright and give him a martyr’s death because as an outlaw, that is what would probably happen, or let him live a little, but with a shortened life.  Since Season 3 outright killed Robin in a way that I thought was good and bad (their killing of Marian just put me off of Season 3 completely), I decided to be a little more humane and give him a shortened life.  The ending with Much’s narration is also based off of the 1998 mini-series _Merlin_ (not the recent TV series)

 

**Q:** _What about Gisborne’s fate?_

**A:** Actually Gisborne was on the slate to die for a long time until I talked to my beta while writing this story and decided that Gisborne would actually live.  My idea was what if someone actually gave Gisborne and god-honest chance?  And the natural question was, besides Marian, who else would do it.  The simple answer was, Robin.  For all of his hatred to what Gisborne did, I believed that Robin would have eventually pitied the man and in that pity, spare him and give him his chance.  So that’s what happened in the story.  The Sheriff, oh he was going to die no matter what – you cannot leave a deadly serpent like that alive.

 

**Q:** _So how did you come up with this whole series?_

**A:** My initial idea was based off of “Tattoo, What Tattoo?” to explore the darker side of Robin.  Then watching “Return of the King” made me want to explore what would happen if the real King Richard returned while Robin was still an outlaw.  Then I laughed myself silly at the horribly inaccurate portrayal of the King in the season finale of Season 2 and decided that it would be my goal to depict the real King Richard as he should have been in _Robin Hood_.  I added _Assassin’s Creed_ elements only after I started to play the game and fell in love with it and realized it was plausible to cross the two fandoms over because of the awesome and surprisingly accurate portrayal of the King in the game.

 

**Q:** _Wow you really must like King Richard the Lionhearted._

**A:** Actually…I don’t.  He fascinates me because he’s so horribly flawed and revered at the same time – which excites the inner historian in me.  But I really dislike the guy; he’s such an asshole and stupid idiot.  Brilliant strategist, I have to give him that, but politically inept.  Carter’s perspective on the King is a little closer to my true feelings on the King than Robin’s.  Though Robin’s perspective of the King is through a very shiny looking glass.  I just make historical figures look good in my stories.  ^_^

 

**Q:** _That’s the second time you’ve used cauterization in your Robin Hood stories, what gives?_

**A:** When writing any historical-based story, even in a fandom like Robin Hood, I strive to be as accurate as possible in both reality and within the series itself.  I liked how eastern medicine during that time period was so much more advanced and the TV series also showed Djaq using silver nitrate to clot one a scratch that Little John had received.  This is also not the only story I’ve used it in, I used silver nitrate in one of my _Jeremiah_ fanfics to great effect.

 

**Q:** _Are you going to write any other stories for_ Robin Hood _?_

**A:** Perhaps, a few years down the road.   _Witch Hazel_ and _Quarantine_ are the only stories left in this AU that still need to be written and I am considering a couple of one-shots down the line regarding some of the time jumps that happened in the _Epilogue_.  But as of this posting, no.  This is my swan song and my exit from the _Robin Hood_ fandom.

 

**Final Notes:**

            I would like to thank every single one of you readers for staying with this story and your encouragement all the way.  I hoped you’ve enjoyed my offerings to Robin Hood.  I enjoyed reading your reviews and answering your questions.  I encourage you to read my other works if you so please, but if not, then you can go back and re-read this whole series starting from _Well Met Steel_.

A few people of note I would like to thank: Jammeke, WildFire203, Sapphiresanctuary, ElleB8327, avidgokufan, AKlimesh, Nathol99, Marlab, Dodectron, polissak, AngelsShadow816, Jupiter13-EpicReader, allerdycegirl, MusicIsLife-x, KeepingAmused, C.R. Cheetah, Deb1, sheshhat, ladie red, MontyPythonFan, Forever A Fool of Fortune, gatewatcher, Es Louise Hernandez-Coppard, anybody-out-there, chat-noir-91, Rei Tamashii, alwayslovingsv, Mizco.  As of this posting, all of you have stood by my works and have left me invaluable feedback.  Thank you.  For those of you who have just reviewed, I thank you too.

The final big thank you goes to my faithful and awesome beta reader, Algae09, also known as Legume Shadow, who finally worked up the courage to start posting fanfics on livejournal.

So ends _The King Richard Trilogy: The Moment of Truth_.


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